Catalyst
by neveraworsename
Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric
1. Chapter 1

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: T for first two, M later on

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Author's Notes: I've been writing this story since June and let it out to select people. Since Faberry won the e!online poll, I thought it best to contribute just a little with the first chapter of this story. Updates every two weeks, hopefully.

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 1 –

Quinn had liked Rachel since fourth grade recital, when she did a version of Hallelujah somewhere between John Cale and Jeff Buckley, although she wouldn't learn that until high school. They'd never been in the same class, but she'd heard the older kids talk about the girl who skipped a grade and had two dads. Most of the talk wasn't good. Rachel had played the piano, slow and mesmerizing, and her voice was the most expressive thing Quinn had ever heard, gracefully moving her from bored and apathetic to amazed with just the first few notes. She could only hear the first few words, though, when her father sucked in a breath and said, "Let's get out of here." The girl wanted to protest, but even at nine, she knew better.

They weren't the only family. About half the people left, leaving the small auditorium to be swallowed by Rachel's voice. She heard her all the way until they reached the doors. Brittany told her later it was the best thing she'd ever heard, and she resented her father with a ferocity that surprised her because she'd never been angry, at least like this, before. He seemed to sense it and took her out for ice cream the next Friday, explaining to her how they'd had to leave because Rachel was a child of sin and just listening to her would inspire the Devil to take her and everyone else.

Still, she liked Rachel. She tried not to be unduly cruel to her and would, on occasion, get something back for her. Rachel would sit with her during recess, every day, but she didn't sing. Occasionally, she might hum a few bars, or whistle, which Quinn took great delight in as her mother claimed it was an unfeminine practice and forbid her to do it. They always shared peanut butter crackers. This might have gone on for who knows how long until Dave Karofsky told his brother, Geoffrey, who ratted her to her big sister, who immediately told her father. The beating and chastisement she got were more than enough for her to break off the friendship with the small brunette and shun Frannie until she let her paint her nails.

Rachel had cried even worse than her but agreed. Shortly after that, school ended, and it seemed as if Rachel stopped talking. Nothing weird happened over the summer; she still saw her at the ice-cream parlor and playing soccer in the empty lots, since there weren't a lot of parks at the time that the child of a gay couple could go to without being harassed, and riding her bike, but she did it all with two boys, not alone anymore. Matt, she knew, and he went to the same vacation Bible school as her. His family wasn't as involved, though, so he didn't have to go to all the Wednesday and Saturday stuff, along with Sunday service, they did.

It made her feel special when the pastor called their house to talk to her father and knew her name and birthday. Other times, she thought she could feel Pastor Kenneth's eyes, judging her for God, when she did something bad. Matt sometimes mentioned his friend Mike, who went to 'Chinese church.' She thought he was being racist until Frannie explained that, no, there really was a church that a lot of Chinese people went to, and they were Christian.

So, since Rachel had two best friends, one pale and one dark, she got two best friends, one pale and one dark. That was more chance than plan, for both of them, though, because even at nine, Brittany and Santana were freakishly codependent, borderline separation anxiety if they had to be parted for anything and Mike was all Matt talked about, and vice versa. Her father said they were all going to Hell, but he said that in the vaguely disapproving, mostly amused tone that meant he didn't really feel it.

She spent the summer learning how to knit with Grandma Miller, learning how to do laundry, and growing two inches, putting her eye to eye with Frankie Belfour, although he later only grew to be 4' 9 1/2''. Fifth grade, they were in the same class and Quinn always felt Rachel's sad, Bambi eyes whenever there was a chance to socialize. It made her stomach knot up, made acid sting her throat, but she only trained her eyes to the board, and Brittany's loopy notes and Santana's emerging smirks, hoping in her secret place, where she kept her prayers, that the small girl would talk to her.

But Rachel didn't talk to anyone except the teacher, Mrs. Hollis, and Karofsky, though that was mostly to tell him to leave her alone. There was no recital in fifth grade. In fact, there wasn't any recital again at OrvilleWrightElementary School. And then, before she knew it, fifth grade was over, and the only real accomplishments she'd made was learning fractions, and watching Bambi and not crying for the first time, because she knew what real sadness was.

Quinn didn't see Rachel at all during middle school, because four blocks made a big difference in bus routes. Matt and Mike went to the same school as her and a casual mention of Rachel's name showed that they were only friends based on convenience, leaving her to traverse the road of middle school by herself. She hoped that Rachel learned to speak up, to show more interest than in singing. She'd hoped those kids were nicer and that she was well, and prayed for it, until her mother found out one night. She had started praying out loud because she'd read in an article somewhere that a person could only have enough space for one hundred twenty close friends, people that they cared for and thought about without knocking someone else out. The girl stopped praying at number seventy though, because her pastor said it represented human leadership and judgment.

Judy tended not to speak on matters Russell had already decided, unless it was in direct violation of his rules. So, hearing her daughter pray specifically for someone her father told her not to even think about was sacrilege. She didn't beat her, but did need to talk to her about it before Russell found out. The blonde mother said, slightly disapproving, "Quinnie, dear, were you praying for those heathens' child?"

Quinn had to look up to her, from where she was kneeling. The hall light was on, still, so her mother's face was shadowed in the darkness of her room while the rest of her had a sort of golden halo. She responded, "Yes, mom." She quickly added, feeling defensive, "It's not her fault. It's not fair that I have you and daddy and our church, and Rachel has those men."

Judy sighed, and got down so they were side by side, "I know, dear. It's really not fair, but the Lord has a plan for everyone. One day, that child will have to renounce them, and it's not up to you. It's up to her and Jesus. She'll have to find the path on her own."

Quinn bit her lip, looked down, and practically mumbled, "But I want to help her."

Her mother pulled her closer, to her side, until she felt like a little kid again, smelling her light perfume of roses and flour and comfort and something distinctly mommy, the same something Brittany's mom and Santana's mom smelled of and basked in her warmth.

Judy smoothed her sandy hair back, breathing her in, "I know, honey. But adversary can either make the soul stronger or break it. And I don't want you getting hurt, so I'm not going to let you. You will leave that girl out of your prayers and your thoughts."

And that was her first real lesson in life, at eleven years old with slightly crooked teeth: Leave the unusual, kill the weak. Social norms are all. She got braces later that year.

So she did as she was taught. Or rather, she attempted to. She tried to leave Rachel out of her thoughts, tried to let the name and image of her age until it was ash, to be swept and thrown away.

Still, when she rode her bike to the Dairy Queen or the community pool, she passed the bright home, whether it was clean with a cat on the doorstep or covered in eggs or toilet paper or derogatory slurs, or, once, Christmas Eve, on the way to the corner store for milk, affluent men, laughing and cheerful as a fire started in the well-pruned garden and a loud yowling that brought tears to her eyes, right in the middle of the afternoon, and she thought of the girl in fifth grade with the curly hair that looked impossibly soft, like a bag of feathers, and big eyes, who never opened her mouth. She'd pray, then, a quick, soft one, "Be with her, Jesus."

"Protect her."

"Save her."

Her mother's words carried weight, though, and she found herself scribbling them everywhere the first few weeks. A math test would have 'adversary shatters the soul' and an English essay would only read 'adversary makes the soul stronger' the first few lines. It scared her again, these strong emotions that wouldn't leave.

It was worse, when she started going through puberty, growing up and out. She'd see Rachel somewhere, like the store, and for the next week, she'd think about her skin or her hands as she reached for something, or how her legs, always the longest part of her, seemed to go on forever, even though she was only like four feet tall. She'd have dreams of Rachel's developing bust line, of her walking down the street, of the little indecisive crook of her mouth as she picked between something in the aisle. She found herself drawing Rachel, exaggerating her features in order to get it out of her system. A nose that should have been called Roman and classical suddenly took up half her face. A full mouth became the second half.

It didn't work.

Quinn found herself angry and frustrated through most of middle school, lonely and scathing, while Santana and Brittany bloomed under the attention of every pubescent boy in three counties. They were casually 'going with' any of ten boys in a week and 'breaking up' with each other over boys, lip-gloss, books, (like either of them read, she'd thought uncharitably several times a day) and any other litany of things. They were normally attached at the hip again within three hours. Their MySpaces were practically dedicated to the other, with stupid things like '3 my Brit-Brit' or 'Luvvvvv u Sanny3333!' The rest went to stupid boys like Noah Puckerman and Simon O'Dell or even Johnny McKay, who had flunked three times and was over six feet tall in the seventh grade. Quinn wasn't allowed a boy friend or a MySpace. In fact, the only social interaction she really had was drill team and those two. Santana ended up being a brief object of affection, which she rationalized to herself, because she was so overprotective of Brittany and she wanted that. Brittany was her first kiss, at a sleepover in seventh grade, and she'd been sure to be soft and gentle so that her 'kissginity would be happy.'

Her sister, meanwhile, was cultivating her to follow in her footsteps. Every day after drill team, her sister made her practice the Cheerio's routines, made her follow the steps and stared at her, like Jesus hanging over her bed. Frannie didn't have to scream abuse at her, like Coach Sylvester reportedly did, just had to look and she would straighten her posture, would make her smile wider, would adjust her stance. She practiced until the sun went down, sometimes after that, until their mother called them in to wash up for dinner.

At least, that's how it went right up until high school, with Frannie going to college, married just that July to some accountant ten years her senior that Dad approved of. She taught her (trained her; "Life is a battlefield, Quinn, don't let the sheep control you.") what to do, what to say, who to avoid ("Don't take Spanish, Mr. Schuester is such a pedophile, he always picks one kid to be his favorite. Ms. Jorgen will pass you if you stay quiet. Don't bother with drama, Ryerson's a huge fag and he'll try to tell you about his long distance girlfriend. Coach Sylvester will make Figgins give you a drama credit if you stay longer than four months."), and even what to eat. She, in turn, taught Santana and Brittany. Brittany, surprisingly, was better at it than Santana. She thrived on rules and regulations, on strict schedules and duties. Santana was a lot more independent and it was harder for her, almost painfully so, to defer to Quinn.

The friendship, never what one would classify 'pure' or 'innocent' was soon strained when Sue made Quinn third in command under her sister's second, then some sophomore who was scarily loyal to Sue and after her, was Brittany, who could out-dance everyone with no music and a smile. There were more, of course, but Santana was relegated to somewhere in the middle until she pushed Julia Chen off the pyramid for digging her heel into her back. Sue liked back-stabbing and ruthlessness, so that did gain her some favor.

Just to further cement her status, she started dating Finnegan Hudson. Prom queen was only two years away, after all, and Frannie had won it twice. She was somewhat attracted to him, so it was easier to date him. He was popular for no conceivable reason because he was pretty normal; a member of the football team, but not a star, average grades because everyone was nice to a war hero's son, even if in reality his dad had only jumped ship like Puck's, sort of handsome in a sweet way, and breaking six feet at fifteen; he was clumsy, he was a goof, he was actually a bit of a jerk and thought he was charming, when really he was annoying, and he was constantly jealous. The only thing he had going for him, in her opinion, was dark hair and eyes. So she made them join the celibacy club. Maybe then he wouldn't ask for what she couldn't give him. He was only the high school boyfriend, after all, not her future husband.

At a better school Finn would have been rejected or, as a joke, maybe the third string quarterback, practically the water boy. Thank the Lord, though, that Jefferson got more funding and Kennedy got more media attention for everything but their cheerleaders. Finn was the only idiot to have signed up for quarterback when their current one was already being looked at by colleges and he would get little to no time on the field, so he was a shoe-in for next year. Tanaka was a terrible coach, too; they probably wouldn't even have try-outs, and he'd just promote the tall boy with no problem, without considering Finn couldn't hit the grass around the barn, never mind the actual building.

So, for the most part, Quinn was set. At least, until Santana opened her big mouth.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Contrary to popular belief, it was Santana who had come up with the nicknames for Rachel. Sometime during November of freshman year, Rachel had transferred in and bumped into Santana. It was only a brush of the shoulders, no scattered books, no blood, no scratch marks. Rachel murmured an apology and stepped back to let Santana pass in a peaceful motion. Middle school had taught her something, apparently. Santana was still on the high from pushing Chen off of her, though, so seeing Rachel was like a giant sign for her to show how much of a bitch she could be, gain some more respect from Sylvester, and call into question Quinn's viciousness at once.

"Watch it, Stubbles," She'd snarled. Then, after she got a good look at what Rachel was wearing, dressed like she was still in elementary school with her argyle animal sweaters, except the khakis and chinos had been replaced with small skirts and knee-high socks, she laughed and said, cruelty dripping off her words, "Christ, are you blind or do you just want to be abducted that badly?"

Everybody laughed as Rachel's face burned darkly and she scurried off. She glanced at Quinn, smirk still in place, "What's wrong, Q? Didn't you see jail bait?"

With that, the Latina had more or less slapped Quinn across the face with a glove and started a duel. The only difference between that and thirteenth century France, it finally ended. Sure, it ended with death but the Cheerios motto was, unofficially of course, Figgins wouldn't allow it, "Death Before Dishonor." Quinn couldn't let that insult slide so she replied, just a little late, "Of course I saw it. My eyes were just burning from its hideous face, though."

Everyone laughed again but Santana's eyes were thoughtful. Quinn felt a little panic which Santana would remember Rachel and how she'd hung out with her in elementary school. Still, if she remembered, she didn't say anything so Quinn felt an ounce of relief. It wasn't like her to sit on information or to bide her time, so the blonde was fairly sure she was in the clear.

Still, worry gnawed at her so she thought it best to just leave Rachel alone. She didn't move through a different hallway or turn around when she saw her, just treated her as another faceless cretin. Unfortunately, Santana didn't. She and a few of the other freshmen cheerleaders started picking on Rachel, teasing her. Sometimes, it was a public affair, forcing Quinn to respond to save face, but more often than not, it was a private sort of intimidation, confined to empty halls and classes and groups of ten to one.

Rachel complained, she knew, to Figgins and to the office about bullying but any launched reports were simply swept under the rug, especially because they were doing so well. The football team was a joke, basketball never made it past district and every other competitive sport was more or less forgetful. Who really watched soccer or baseball?

They'd made the competition their one-eyed, limp-dicked bitch in district, county and state. She'd heard rumors about Fox and CNN featuring them and from Coach Sylvester's gloating and increased evilness, it was true. But with all that came stress to be the best, to beat the competition with their own liver and then feed it to their parents. Sylvester had them on Master Cleanse almost all the time and she'd taken to actually sniffing their breath to see if she could smell anything on them. At least four girls had quit, only for Sue to haul them into her office to give them a 'talk' which lead to them being put at the bottom, but back.

The girls that bothered the brunette seemed to be doing better than the others, so she tried it, warring with guilt before she'd even said anything, away from them. The halls were empty except for two blank-faced stoners, Kevin Hendricks and Joey Marsh, that couldn't tell up from down. Rachel was at her locker, putting her books away with slightly wet eyes and little stains on the neck of her blouse and a patch of green behind her ear. The slushy machine was locked up on cool days like this, but obviously Santana had found a way to get to it. Quinn wanted to lick the stain off. Quinn wanted to do more than that, if she was being honest, but honesty had never done much for her, so she decided to make the decision.

(Feelings vs. Social Status, round seven hundred and twelve. Put your dukes up and come out fighting.)

"Jesus, Man Hands, never heard of soap and water? I thought they had it in abundance in Fagland," She sneered.

The brunette's jawline tightened and her eyes were a little brighter before she said, nearly murmuring, "The ladies' restroom ran out of soap, if you must know."

There was soap in her locker, and for a moment she was going to get it and give it to her, but she saw Becky Jackson, Santana's mole, leaving a room. Quinn slammed the locker shut, Rachel's fingers barely out of reach and stared at her, hostility on her face. The smaller girl backed up a step but kept eye contact. The blonde wasn't sure if the other girl was angry or scared but there appeared to be little flecks of another color in her eyes. Her own eyes, she knew, turned brown when she was sad or angry and were green when she was happy, and were a sort of swampy color the rest of the time. They hadn't been green for a long time.

Rachel broke the look, fiddling with her purple wheeled monstrosity before looking back up. Her jaw was set and there was a little furrow between her brows. She licked her lips, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. The furrow became deeper and she said, just barely loud enough to be heard, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

She was giving Quinn options. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Rachel "Loser" Berry was trying to give her an out without letting her get into trouble.

It was the most endearing thing anyone had ever done for her.

Quinn took a quick look around. Becky was already down the hall, and the stoners were heading into a different room. She bent her head slightly and, after a moment of hesitation but knowing she would never get the chance to again, especially with what she'd have to do to the poor girl, she lifted Rachel's face upwards until her skin was pale from the fluorescent lights and the light hollows under her eyes were shiny. Her eyes were not suspicious or sparkling or whatever they said in books. Instead, they were just dark and pretty. She was trusting Quinn, the blonde realized. She was trusting Quinn not to do something drastic and fuck everything up. The problem was that the cheerleader didn't trust herself not to do something drastic and so did.

Quinn leaned down some more and slipped her eyes closed just before she kissed Rachel swiftly. When she stood straight, her mouth felt sticky and she was aware of a very slight shame but she wanted to kiss her again. She let her hand drop and opened her eyes. The brunette was staring at her, though, with large eyes. She was so surprised that the tears had dried. Her lashes were clumped together and black and looked impossibly long. Quinn curled the hand that had touched Rachel into a fist and put it behind her back. It was just a little warmer than her other hand.

They might have stood and stared at each other for a long time, but Miss Pillsbury saw them and called, "Quinn? Ru-Raquel? Do you guys need to talk to me?"

The smaller girl turned around and said, coolly, her expressive face closed off even more than Quinn's, "My name is Rachel Berry. I am going to be on Broadway. I suggest that next time you see me, it is with accurate information."

Then she walked away, back like a flagpole. Quinn bit her lip. Confidence was really, really attractive on her, and so was speaking. Her voice was high-pitched without being obnoxious and she enunciated her words in a way that made Quinn shiver.

Miss Pillsbury's face was a bright pink, before she said, shakily, "Q-Quinn? What about you?"

She shook her head, "No, thanks."

Quinn walked in the opposite direction of Rachel, towards the gym. She licked her lips. They tasted like lime and cinnamon. Tracy Gollight had left her laptop and it'd had the same password (Edwarrrrd&! Jacooooob4evah) for two years. She had some comments to leave.

It was a start, even if it was a little late. Rachel, no, RuPaul would rather live in Hell than step foot in McKinley after she was through.

(Social Status won with a TKO.)

The first thing she did after the comments on MySpace was round up a few of the smarter jocks and told them to install the slushy machine in the cafeteria before having a free-for-all. At first, Rachel wasn't hit. More than one of them was the child of a single mother and they had respect for women. It wasn't until the underclass Cheerios hit her with waves of slushies and threw her in the dumpster and the teachers didn't seem to notice that their least troublesome student came in late every day that they decided to go ahead with the plan. Soon, Man Hands was getting slushies' thrown at her three or four times a day, along with the gothic Asian, that gay boy, Jacob Ben Israel and Suzy Pepper. The other geeks and losers were also slushied but not as frequently. At first, Quinn thought it'd stop after they won nationals. There would be no need to bully anyone anymore, right?

But it didn't stop. In fact, it escalated.

Quinn started calling her names, hurtful things that would have made her cry but Rachel only walked away, never answering to them. She drew Stubbles in pornographic poses in all the bathrooms on the first floor. Santana wasn't as rebellious anymore once she saw that she could belittle and hit people as much as she wanted. But it also made the little brunette speak up, putting her best foot forwards. There wasn't much anyone could do that would hurt her more short of beating her up, and it seemed to give her confidence that things could only get better.

Coach Sylvester liked the work ethic she seemed to be showing and told her, quietly, that she was promoting her to head cheerleader next year rather than the sophomore or Santana as she'd originally intended.

She slapped Quinn on the back, "Put that much drive into cheerleading and I'll have my sixth national championship yet."

Somehow, it didn't make her feel better.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: T for first two, M later on

Fandom: Glee

Words: 5,218

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Author's Notes: Second chapter, two weeks after the first. Let's hope I can keep this up.

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 2 –

Sometimes, Quinn felt like she lived in TV Land, how her mother wore an apron and her father came in from work at exactly five thirty, no matter the day. Other times, like when Brittany and Santana were cozied up in a booth across from her, she felt like something trashy on The CW. Today, it was Showtime, even though she had never watched that network. Her parents believed firmly that anything worth watching must come on basic cable. Except, you know, UFC. And boxing. And John Haggerty.

It was Showtime, though, because there was nudity. At least, she thought that they showed nudity. They showed Dexter, which was about a serial killer, so genitalia showed up at some point, didn't it? Whatever.

Quinn sulked on the couch, drinking her third cup of beer in an hour. Brittany only filled them up a quarter of the way for her and diluted that with water and juice, which made it really gross, but the blonde asked about it each time she came back from dancing, so she sipped. Besides, Santana told her Puck got the cheapest thing he could find because it was only a Wednesday night party, and he was saving for the Saturday night "Back To School Bitches" extravaganza, so it was possibly an improvement. It was themed for Catholic school girls and strippers.

She'd only gone to the party because Finn was being an idiot and started asking to do more, which she wasn't going to. Then he'd called her fat and she'd called him a lot of names that she shouldn't have. His mother was a nicer woman than that. So, he'd claimed to be going to Puck's party, so she had to go so no one noticed that they were fighting. Unfortunately, he'd texted an apology and said he was going out of town with his mother ten minutes after she'd gotten there and now she was stuck with Brittany and Santana. They were feuding because Santana wanted to get high and not dance, which would only last until the end of the night, really, when they would curl up like sickening puppies in Puck's room.

She wobbled into the kitchen, where Santana, Tracy, two football players, three no-ones and that Asian chick were giggling hysterically. The football players were naked. The blonde stepped over outstretched legs to a rack of unopened wine coolers. She held them up to the light to make sure there was nothing floating in there or murky colored or any holes anywhere. She grabbed one of the cases and carried her bounty to the couch.

The teenager had only drunk one before Puck tried to flirt. Quinn ignored him. She glanced around, thinking that it was boring, until she saw three girls, mostly naked, dancing on a table. Her mouth got dry, so she kept drinking until it was empty. Her mouth didn't feel any wetter though. Puck turned in the direction she was looking, obviously confused as to why she wasn't unzipping his pants, and flopped into the seat next to her once he saw, holding a hand out for a wine cooler. Between the two of them, they'd finished the case off before the girls even started to glisten in the light.

Puck staggered into the kitchen and emerged triumphant with Tracy on his shoulder. She scowled, drunk. That bastard was supposed to be bringing more drinks, not that slutbucket. It was possible to fit her in a straw, but Quinn wasn't going to drink that. When she tried to stand and couldn't, she laid fully on the couch to take a break. After the room stopped spinning, Quinn got up and danced with Brittney and a slender boy with a lot of piercings, and then a lot more people that just blurred together because she'd had more drinks.

She was dancing with Brittany again, when she felt slender hands on her hips. It wasn't very obtrusive, so she let him. They moved well, whoever it was, and wasn't nearly as clumsy as Finn or as crude as, well, all the other boys at school. Then she wobbled, laughing, and whoever it was caught her. She couldn't hear much but she let whoever lead her upstairs and into a room. If this was a guy, she would be really embarrassed, so she hoped it was a girl. It probably wasn't, though, as they finally just picked her up with a grunt. It made her feel fat, fatter than Finn's comment because he would at least have picked her up without making any sounds.

The room was dark and he struggled to lay her on the bed without bumping into anything. He had small shoulders and felt short, shorter than her. She hoped it wasn't Jewfro. She'd have to kill him and then herself, if that was the case. He didn't do anything, just slipped her shoes off and took her jacket off before pulling the covers to rest around her shoulders. She wiggled out and struggled with her pants before he helped her with those and her shirt.

He stood but Quinn grasped his sleeve. It was quieter and she felt a little more sober so she asked, "Water?" There were a few moments she didn't remember before the stranger was back, helping her drink the liquid. He kept a hand on the back of her head to make sure she was elevated enough to keep from spilling. There was another blank, and then she was kissing him.

There was no patchy stubble, no harsh jawline, no slobbering. He tasted strongly of whisky and smelt like fabric softener and vodka. It was much more refined than Finn's Axe spray and how he constantly tasted like something greasy. She gained pounds just breathing the same air as him. She touched the boy's hair, soft and thick. It felt really long, which meant McKinley was out. Maybe he went to Kennedy, or Jefferson, or even that private school St. Jerome. All their kids looked like hippies. It was lost in the shuffle of blank thoughts as she felt teeth on her lip and made a small sound. He drew back and whispered, "Sorry, did I bite you?"

And suddenly, there was light. Her head ached badly and she cracked her eyes open. Sunlight was just starting to enter the room, almost directly into her field of vision. She groaned lowly and then wished she hadn't. Her throat was sore and irritated, as if she had a bad cold and her skin was itching from the rough blanket, though not as much as the area between her legs. She lifted it slightly and squeaked, a noise she'd never heard herself make. She was completely naked except for a sock. There were little hickeys from her chest down to her thighs. Quinn let it drop out of frustration, rolled over, and screamed into the pillow until she thought her throat would bleed and her ears would pop. When she turned over, her throat was sore but workable and her ears worked the same.

The same thought kept going through her mind, bI've lost my virginity. Jesus Christ, forgive me./b And then, rather anti-climatically, bMy stomach hurts./b She'd never even been drunk before and the vegetarian shtick her mother was on wasn't conductive to soaking up alcohol.

The delicate gold chain around her neck felt like it was burning, even worse than what she was sure was the first case of a teenager with acid-reflux disease. She was a sinner. Quinn Lucille Fabray, who had tried so hard to do what her father and her Father said, who had made the life of the girl she had lusted for and who she wanted Hell. This was worse than her thoughts of Rachel, because she couldn't control her dreams and the kiss hadn't been very sinful. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

There was loud snoring next to her. She turned to find that Brittany and Santana were asleep next to her. For a moment, panic shot through her, straight from her veins to her heart, shutting down her internal organs. They were her best friends, how could she have slept with them? They were the best part of her life, and she'd ruined it. She might have had thoughts, but she'd have never acted on them. Then it eased out slowly, as she saw that they were in the same clothes as last night. She rolled out of the bed too fast, causing another spike of pain in her head.

There was a poster on the wall of a girl on a motorcycle, an XBOX controller lying on top of a pile of dirty laundry, and a picture of Puck and his little sister near the mirror. Football cleats reeked in a corner. Quinn groaned lowly but quickly went to find her clothes. She could worry about her betrayal of Finn and check her chances of having an STI later; right now she had to get dressed and get home. About five minutes later, she'd found all of her things except for her underwear. Considering the piles of female undergarments that decorated the room, she wasn't going to chance it. A glance at Brittany and Santana proved that they weren't going to be any use, so she headed downstairs.

About four teenagers lay asleep on the staircase and she walked carefully to keep from waking them. Her own headache was killing her and she felt like she was going to puke at any moment. Also, she knew for a fact that some of them had been at the party before her and had been drinking right from the start. When she reached the first floor, she huffed in irritation. Somewhere between twenty and forty teenagers had made the floor their home for the night. It was a lot harder to walk through them, but she managed, only stepping on Jewfro's hand and a younger Cheerio's foot.

Puck was in the kitchen, already, flirting with a girl she didn't recognize. He glanced at her and waved but otherwise gave no indication that she existed. The blonde swallowed dryly, shoulders slumping as she unlocked and left through the side door. Obviously, their night had meant little to him. How many other virgins had he had? She wondered. Quinn knew for a fact that he and Santana were each other's firsts, evidence as to why they kept breaking up and getting back together despite their shared infidelity. Sometimes, she'd heard, they even cheated with the same girl. And if he'd slept with Santana then he'd probably slept with Brittany too. They couldn't pee without the other following into the stall.

After almost a block of walking, Quinn found herself sweating. She unzipped her jacket but then had to zip it again because there were a multitude of rainbow stains that didn't look like she'd created them. They'd been impossible to see in Puck's room with its black sheets for curtains and the single dim lamp. Now, they were a sign of her sin.

She started to jog. If she was sweaty enough, her mother would just think she'd been out for a run and hadn't found her track pants, not that she'd never come home. Similar but not, she could also think Quinn was strung out on drugs. Quinn had only gone another block when she heard a horn. The cheerleader didn't turn around, despite being the only person on the block. Finn had honked when they first started dating and she'd made it a habit to wait until he finally got out and answered the door. It was also embarrassing to be seen with a guy whose car horn sounded like a bike horn. Whoever it was got the hint and she heard the creaky sound of bike wheels and the click of a card in the spokes. She slowed to a walk and bit her lip when she glanced and ended up staring. The bike was a little black one-seater, an older model, and RuPaul was walking it towards her. The brunette made a gesture for her to stay and came closer.

For a moment, Quinn thought about walking the fifteen blocks home when it was this hot in the early morning. Then her common sense kicked in and she walked towards the bike. Man Hands stayed still and let her climb onto the back and placed her hands on her slim shoulders. She was too tall to ride on the handlebars. The blonde could feel the tight muscles under the other girl's shoulders. The brunette was sweating, glistening really, and smelled a little like sweat and musk. Quinn's ears started to burn in embarrassment. Looked like Berry wasn't a virgin either.

"Can you give me your address?" The girl asked almost as soon as they ended the block.

"27 Dursley Avenue."

It was silent for a while, just the steady sound of the chain moving, before Yeti cleared her throat. She sounded a little breathless when she asked, "Are you hungry? I could stop at McDonalds or something." McDonalds was four blocks out of the way and they would end up passing right by her house.

The thought of food made her stomach roil anyways and she quickly replied, "No." She didn't add a thank you. It was quiet for another few minutes. Quinn had just started to recognize the area as the two blocks she'd ruled as a child before Berry asked, "Did you know you were my first kiss?"

Quinn looked down at her, eyes wide. The smaller girl was staring straight ahead and her face was the smooth mask just like outside of Miss Pillsbury's office. There was more sweat on her forehead and the hair hanging in front was plastered to the sides of her face and curling from the humidity. Her hands, though, were tight on the bike handles. She could see the knuckles turn white as she they leaned and turned onto the right street. Quinn swallowed, although she wasn't sure why. It felt a lot like what to do in that situation. The blonde took a deep breath, "No."

The bike slowed and coasted to a stop just outside of her house. She got off and closed her left hand into a fist. Did you know you were the first kiss that really mattered? She didn't ask.

The brunette continued, as if this was a normal, everyday conversation, as if they were talking about the weather or something, "Mmmm. Well, you were." She added, as if she was being prompted, "It was nice. Have a lovely day, Quinn."

She couldn't stop the words this time, "Thanks Berry."

RuPaul waited until she was at her door and it was opened before leaving. She leaned against the door frame, feeling exhausted for being up all of twenty minutes. She rubbed her eyes and headed up the stairs. It was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and appliances. It was so cool in the house that she shivered passing by a vent on the stairs. The blonde girl headed up the stairs to her room. She only paused briefly to dig out a pair of red pajamas and her towel to take with her to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and waited until the water was so hot that the mirror couldn't reflect anything but a vague blob. Quinn stripped her clothes off and gently prodded a red mark near her belly button. It stung a little. She went under the spray of the shower and started to scrub.

She was half way through her shower when she started to sob.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

The first weird thing Quinn noticed was spotting. It wasn't unusual for her to spot two or three days before her period but it was more than a week away. The blonde figured it was the stress of the start of school. She had two classes with Finn and two classes with Tranny so it wasn't the easiest transition. Hearing Stubbles voice for the ninety minutes of English was pure Hell for two reasons: one, she had to pretend she hated the other girl and two, because she focused on her voice so much she didn't hear much else. Gym was a different layer of Hell as Figgins had convinced Coach Sylvester that her athletes would benefit from more exercise, so she'd been put in gym and was forced to run laps all the time and not much else. Under the argyle, sweaters, and Mary Jane's, Berry had a body even Ms. Sylvester couldn't find fault in and was one of the better normal students, the ones that weren't on any athletic team. Her stomach featured in Quinn's dreams for the rest of the month.

Finn also seemed to think 'girlfriend' meant the same thing as 'cheating partner' and expected her to hand over her tests and school work as soon as she was finished to him. More than that, he was hanging out with Puck more and was trying to move their relationship forward. She felt guilty enough for sleeping with his friend that she might have let him if he wasn't so pig-headed about it. She'd even attempted to give him a hand job but he'd released before her hand was even in his swim suit. He'd then gone on to pull the 'if you loved me, you'd let me touch you' card more times than she could count. For being the son of a single mother he wasn't very gentlemanly.

But even then, she felt more guilt because she cared for Finn, but she just couldn't put herself on the line for him. She could talk to him, she could understand him but it was difficult to share everything with him. There were a lot of fears she had, like the dark and her claustrophobia and terrorism that she had shared and so many more that she hadn't. Fears like her thought that she wouldn't get out of Lima or would end up like her parents or go the way of her Great-Aunt Gertrude and blow her brains out with the family rifle on her fiftieth birthday because she hadn't accomplished anything. She wasn't sure if he would understand, and she was more afraid of rejection than anything else.

Puck was another problem. The classes she didn't share with RuPaul and Finn she had with him. He'd given her lustful looks before and she'd thought he'd stop now that they'd had drunken sex. Apparently, he didn't remember either and was skirt chasing more than ever now that Santana had dumped him because of his credit score, which really meant Brittany wasn't putting out until she was single. Every time he looked at her it reminded her of the night she didn't remember and had lost the single most precious thing to her.

Later that week, she overheard someone mention fried Oreo's at lunch and got nauseous almost instantly. It came so suddenly that she missed the toilet when she rushed to the girls' bathroom. It was over within ten minutes but she felt shaken and scared. That had never happened to her before and she wondered what was going on. Maybe Ms. Sylvester really had planted those monitors in them to monitor their calorie intake like she'd claimed. Quinn stood, wiped her mouth with a bit of toilet paper and left the stall. Rachel stood on the other side, her eyes wide and worried. The worry didn't fade when she saw Quinn. In the mirror, she could see that she was still slightly pasty looking and she'd missed a spot by her chin.

She summoned as much attitude as she could and said, swallowing the bitter aftertaste of vomit, "Not a word, Man Hands."

Quinn turned to the mirror and wiped the last traces of her puke off before rinsing her mouth with the tap water. It was almost as bad as the vomit, really. She was sure she saw red flakes of rust lying in it. The blonde wiped her mouth with a paper towel and left the restroom. Miss Pillsbury smiled as they passed but Quinn kept her face blank. If she didn't, she had the feeling she would cry.

Brittany looked a little concerned but perked up when Quinn gave her the last of her pita chips and the juice box she'd bought just for her. She didn't think she could eat. Santana's eyes were more wary, as they always were, and when they walked to class she murmured, "You alright? I don't need my white girl to go any more Hannibal Lector on me."

Quinn laughed, mostly to keep from crying again. Hannibal Lector was her favorite villain and she'd said once, probably back in the fifth or sixth grade, that if she ever grew up to be an evil heathen, she'd model herself after him. She barely even remembered that conversation, but Santana's memory was just creepy, with all the things she remembered people saying. Santana could be a bitch but she was her friend, her best friend most of the time. And sometimes she thought she could throttle Santana and other times, like this, she just wanted to hug her and never let go. And she'd cheated on her with her boyfriend. Granted, Santana treated Puck like shit, but it was very mutual. So, instead of answering, she asked, "I thought B was your white girl?"

She shrugged, "A Latin mama'sgotta get her mack on." She looked at Quinn from the corner of her eye and continued, tone deliberately casual, "But you alright?"

Quinn took a deep breath. The truth was supposed to be a good thing, right? But then she looked around at the crush of people and their staring eyes, watching her mouth and face and eyes for any sign of weakness, for any sign to knock her off her throne and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a tough week, you know."

As they turned to walk down the history corridor, Santana rolled her shoulders and then her eyes, "Yeah, I know. Couch Sylvester's one perraloca. I wouldn't be surprised if she really did get her uterus removed, though."

Quinn shuddered, "Yeah, imagine if there were a bunch of little her's around."

They shuddered again and Santana nudged her with her shoulder, "They'd probably be like Berry."

And there she was again, Santana the bitch, the one searching for the cracks in her castle. Quinn gave a laugh, "Yeah, but not much worse. Hard to go lower than lowest." Her secret place ached. It'd been so long since she felt it that she'd nearly forgotten it existed.

Brittany, who had been counting the lockers with scratches and dents suddenly said, "Are unicorns like cave men?"

They both looked at her but she wasn't paying them any attention, still focused on the lockers. Quinn looked at Santana who shrugged. Her face was affectionate though, in that her eyes weren't their normal dark pits of Hellfire, but actually something like sweetness in them, and she walked behind Quinn to Brittany, where she linked their pinkies. Brittany smiled at her and kissed her cheek. She looked away feeling a little uncomfortable with the intimacy they showed so casually. Her parents didn't hug or kiss unless they were trying to appear happy and she was only hugged on occasion, when something really needed a tactile enforcement, like the high-fives Frannie used to give her for really hard moves. Finn had to learn the hard way when they first started dating that she didn't do casual touching.

Mr. Backs put the PowerPoint presentation on just as they entered. He gave them a look, probably for being almost late, and they took their seats in the back. Since Mr. Backs was going on about crono-magnum or whatever and her parents had complained fifteen times in the first week about her learning that, she was exempt from the test and had plenty of time for herself. After twenty minutes dedicated to defacing Berry's face in her notebook and erasing the little hearts that had somehow come into existence, she pulled her phone out and decided to see what diseases the internet would claim she had. Last time her cold had been lymphoma.

The first thing that popped up was menopause and she bit her lip to stop from smiling. The second made her snicker, just loud enough for Brittany to glance at her. The third made her pale and lift her hand for the bathroom pass because she was sure she was going to throw up again. Mr. Backs seemed to understand and, when he handed it to her, told her to take all the time that she needed.

Quinn had just barely made it to the restroom when she started crying. It seemed empty again, thankfully, and she locked the door behind her. She leaned against the sink and then sunk down, face in her hands. The room echoed her sobs and made her feel pathetic and little. This was different from the smallness of her church, where she felt God most strongly and was sure He was looking out for her. This little made her feel like an ant in a long line of worker ants. She was crying because of shock, but how could she be shocked when the facts had been there.

She'd had sex with a boy, who she assumed was Noah Puckerman, and was unsure if they used protection. She hadn't taken Plan B contraceptive because she didn't want anyone to find out and for the most part thought it was a load of crap. She also hadn't gone to the free clinic, but that was because she wasn't allowed to drive anywhere unless her mother or father was there. It was two weeks later and she had until next Thursday for her period to show up. Her crying jag lasted five minutes, mostly because any longer than that and she started to feel uncomfortable and self-pitying, before she stood to wash her face.

Her eyes were red and shiny, but not remarkably so. Anyone who saw her would just think she'd gotten dust in her eyes or something. Her ears were ringing and she tried to pop them, but that hurt more. But it also helped to focus her.

She was part of a pragmatic family, who normally self-medicated with alcohol, but was known on occasion to get up and move towards their goals. That was why her father was a womanizer and a borderline alcoholic but was a deacon at the church and her mother could ignore everything wrong in the world and not break dishes just to let some of her feelings out, even when she was so drunk she could only lay on the couch, watching Billie Mays' infomercials and the only way her sister could leave Lima was to marry a bald guy who was almost thirty, was divorced, and had two kids he didn't pay child support.

Quinn deleted the history on her phone and then exited the web browser. The clock on the device read just after one. She still had an hour or so of school but she wasn't sure she could sit in class feeling like a spinning top, slowly dancing towards the gutter while everyone else learned useless facts on salt or whatever. She unlocked the door and headed towards the biggest room in the school that didn't smell, as Santana claimed and was scarily accurate, like Cheetos and ass; the auditorium.

When she entered the auditorium the stage lights were off and the stage was empty. The curtains were pulled. There were only a few windows, set high and the casual, side lights on.

She called out, "Hello?" There was only the sound of her voice. It was deserted.

Her footsteps were loud as she approached the middle seats and she imagined it was like stepping back into the womb. Then she grimaced and, hesitantly, touched her stomach with the tips of her fingers, over the shirt. It didn't feel like there was much there, underneath the cotton and skin. She only felt the hard line of muscles she struggled to maintain while Finn lounged around and ate chips and played Halo and still managed to have a six pack and a nice complexion.

Quinn's hand dropped and she flopped into the seat next to her. She'd completely forgotten about Finn; what was she going to say to him? "Hey, sorry, I got drunk at a party and fucked your friend. Also, I might be pregnant. Hope you get over it." Finn deserved more than that. Finn deserved more than all the lies he'd been fed because he was trusting and thought better of people.

The blonde rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. There was only the whine of the air conditioner and the occasional scuffle of feet in the hall to interrupt the quiet. She pulled her phone out again to look up how soon she could take a pregnancy test and felt nerves settle in her chest at the fact that she had to wait another week or so for it to be more accurate. Quinn tucked the phone away again, through with it.

She was nearly asleep when she heard the creak of the door opening and closing and the quiet snick of the lock, which was probably a fire hazard waiting to happen. A lot of students came to the auditorium because it was a peaceful place and the 'civilians' as Ms. Sylvester dubbed them tended to leave each other alone. It was only the Cheerios and jocks who stood out in their need to be seen as a collective and not as an individual. She sunk further into the seat so her bright hair wouldn't be seen. For once, she wished her uniform wasn't so distinctive.

The footsteps kept going, until they were on the stage and whoever was there didn't seem to care if there was an audience of one, even if it was unseen. Slowly, the curtains pulled back until the out of tune piano was able to be seen. The single spot light came on and Rachel Berry stood in the middle of it. She called, like the blonde did, "Hello? Anyone out there?" Her voice cracked a little, and she sniffled.

Quinn decided then and there that her day couldn't get any worse; not from finding out she could be pregnant from the school manwhore. At least, until RuPaul started to practice her scales. She stayed where she was, watching her strut around the stage, play the piano a little, all in the spotlight. She really did seem to belong there, in a way that no one else did, and Quinn felt a pang in her abdomen at the thought of her staying in Lima, working some meaningless job at Sheets 'n Things or DiMico Auto Shop or something. Rachel even seemed to belong when she sat on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling. At least, until she laid on her back and pulled her skirt and underwear down. No one could really blame Quinn for screaming, now could they?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 –

Rachel scrambled to get her skirt and underwear up as Quinn stood, from the middle of the seats to scurry away. It was harder than it looked to get away with her things in tow and the narrow aisle was a hindrance. Berry was rapidly catching up to her and just as she reached the doors, grabbed hold of her shirt, pulling her backwards.

Quinn turned to tell her off, but Rachel's hand was on her mouth. It was shaking and sweaty as Rachel hissed, "Shut up!" She felt her back being pressed against the door, trapped between it and the smaller girl. Quinn tried to push her, to buck her off, but the brunette didn't budge.

The bell rang over them, loud and clear. There was a stampede of feet. She could hear the raucous calls of the teenage boys and the catty remarks from girls. The hand on her mouth felt even warmer when someone tried to open the door and then called, "Practice must be cancelled. Anyone wanna go to McDonalds?"

There was a murmur and more feet trooped away.

They must have been standing there for twenty minutes, in that same position before the halls cleared. Rachel took her hand away and immediately said, "You can't tell anyone."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, "You don't tell me what I can and can't do, McPervert."

Tranny's mouth quivered a little before she said, "If anyone is the pervert here, it's you." Her voice grew more self-assured and forceful as she continued, "After all, I'm not the one that sat through a full hour of singing and dancing from the school loser, when I called out loud specifically to see if there was anyone here."

Quinn's hands drew into fists, "I didn't know you were going to fondle yourself, Man Hands! What kind of freak are you?"

Her answer was rapid fire and loud, her face flushed, "The kind of freak who knows that you're a freak!"

The blonde's stomach dropped and she hissed, "You take that back."

Rachel squared her shoulders, and yelled, so loud Quinn almost felt like she was hearing the wrath of God from above, "No! You think I'm blind or something, Fabray?" She makes her last name sound like a dirty word, like the worst type of voodoo. "I feel you watching me; I know you're watching me! I try to be nice, and you throw it right back in my face! I try to not pay you any attention, you come looking for me! What, you get some sick kick out of fucking with me? What do I need to do to get you to leave me alone, to get on my knees and fuck you?"

Her face was even darker now, even her plump mouth a more sultry red, her chest was heaving and she was still directly in front of Quinn. The image came unbidden; Rachel on her knees, dark hair threaded in her pale hands, lapping her to orgasm. And Quinn had never been more hot and wet ever, not that she knew, so it wasn't really her fault when she whispered, "God, yes. Do that and you'll never hear from me again."

The brunette dropped to her knees after a moment, and said, "That better not be a lie, Quinn. This floor is extremely unsanitary."

Quinn ignored her because of course it was a lie, how naïve was this girl, and unzipped the back of her skirt to hike it up further, bunching it around her waist. Berry pulled her underwear down, until it was around her ankles and Quinn pulled a foot through and then squeaked when Berry lifted her right leg and put it around her shoulder, saying, "Shhh."

Her tongue was warmer than the cheerleader expected, warmer than the hands on her hips as it slipped along her outer lips. She did this for several moments before flicking her tongue upwards and to Quinn's clit. She slid her tongue inside her lips, and rubbed it along her folds, gathering her arousal like morning dew. It took Quinn a few minutes to realize that Berry was experimenting, to see what she would like and getting used to her… intimate area. It was only now that she felt a modicum of embarrassment; what if she tasted bad? What if she looked funny? What if she wasn't aroused enough for this to be comfortable?

Berry withdrew her head from between her legs and gave Quinn a glare, "Would you please relax? I'm nervous enough without you withdrawing like that."

The blonde swallowed, "Right." She added, "Sorry."

Rachel put her mouth back and started to lick more enthusiastically. Quinn did as she was told and relaxed, hooking her leg further around the brunette. It had the added benefit of pressing the small girl closer, practically suffocating her. She had to close her eyes because she felt overwhelmed with all the new sensations. If her first time had been like this, she didn't remember and didn't want to. It was Man Hands, who no one could deny was going to go places, not Puck, the Lima Loser, who was steadily bringing her to something, something wild and unexplainable.

She'd never touched herself, not even after her dreams, so she wasn't familiar with the tightening of her abdominal muscles, of her labored breathing, of the way her well-trained tool would disobey her in the most delectable way. But what she was aware of was the sound of her cross across the gold chain as she moved her head, and the sudden awareness that God was watching her. God was watching her get her intimates licked by the Jewish daughter of a gay couple. And then, after a few seconds, she wasn't thinking of anything.

When the cheerleader managed to open her eyes again, Tranny was still lapping gently, and she made a small noise before unhooking her leg and pushing at her head. She was too sensitive down there for any more. Stubble's stood up straight. Her mouth was shiny, even in the low lights, and her eyes were half-lidded and content looking. Quinn hesitated before grasping her shoulders, pulling her closer and kissing her. The smaller girl's mouth was still, just for a moment, before she kissed her back.

Her lips were impossibly soft and Quinn could feel the little puffs of her breath on the side of her face as she breathed through her nose. She made a small noise before pressing her lips against the other girl with a little more force. Something like a sparkle shot through her and made her lashes flutter before she opened them again. Tranny's eyes were closed. Her eyes traced the side of the smaller girl's face, drinking in her features, marred only by her furrowed brow. Quinn held her breath because otherwise she felt like she would hyperventilate. The brunette withdrew first and opened her eyes to look at the cheerleader. Their eyes connected and the Jewish girl leaned forwards. At first, the blonde thought she was going to kiss her again, before she angled her head so she was by her ear and said, "I hope you enjoyed it. Never again, Fabray."

The brunette turned and headed to the stage again, where she rolled her book bag to the other exit, on the back side of the auditorium, which led right to the back lot of the school. Quinn closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of artificially cooled air. Her lips tingled, still, and she found herself smiling as she pulled her underwear on.

The next day, she threw a cherry slushy into Berry's face in the middle of lunch. Her jaw gaped open and then shut. The brunette gave her a look that even Sue Sylvester couldn't manage and stormed off. It was the first ever diva storm-off and it was all recorded on that creep Jacob Ben Israel's phone because it had such a nice view of Rachel's ass. Quinn never told anyone how once she was home she played the video over and over again, wondering why she'd done it instead of speaking to her. When the answers didn't come, she turned the computer off and crawled into her bed even though it was only five o'clock. She was tired and needed the rest.

When she woke up, it was six thirty and her mother was shaking her shoulders. "Quinnie, dear," She said, "I know that Coach Sylvester works you hard, but you need to wash up for dinner."

She gave a tremendous yawn, covered by her hand of course, and said, "Yes, mom. I'll be down in a little."

Her mother pecked her on the forehead and made sure to close the door on the way out. Quinn rubbed at her eyes and rolled out of bed to stand directly in front of her bedroom mirror. She stood up straight and flattened her shirt over her stomach. She wondered what she would look like in nine months and slammed her eyes shut. There was no need to think like that; she wasn't even sure if she was pregnant. Google wasn't the most reliable source and it was most likely stress. Or, or even a hysterical pregnancy. She'd heard about those and those weird women who would fake it for months, even years sometimes, pretending to have miscarriage after miscarriage in order to avoid suspicion. She'd just been having a hard time that was all.

Quinn went to the bathroom and washed her hands for the thirty seconds required. She dried her hands and looked at her face, squinting in the bad light of the bathroom. Her vanity was much better illuminated, but that was just being vain. This was sufficient for now. Bags were starting to show under her eyes even though she'd been sleeping more now than ever and she'd felt the lack of rest in Cheerio's today, even if she hadn't let it show. There was a large, red pimple on her chin and she scowled. Wasn't Clearasil supposed to keep those from showing up?

The cheerleader turned all the lights on from the bathroom to the dining room because her father didn't like the dark and was more than satisfied with the high electric bill, which probably explained her fear of the dark. Her mother was much more lax about it and never scolded her if dad was out of town. She took her seat to the left of her father and made appropriate noises when the food was brought out. At the scent of it, she was suddenly starving. She fidgeted a little as her father took his sweet time cutting up the rack of lamb, selecting the choicest morsels, and then spooned a heaping amount of mashed potatoes and string beans to the side. When all their plates had food on them, they held hands and her father's deep voice prayed.

"Lord, thank You for the bounty and blessing we are about to receive. We thank You for putting food on our tables and in our stomachs when there are many who have none. We thank You for supplying us with shelter, with clothes, with my job at the company, with fair faces made in Your image, with peaceful, God-fearing neighbors."

He went on and on until Quinn thought her head would explode and her stomach would shrink. It was obvious he'd had a good day at work. Wouldn't a simple, "Thank you Jesus for this meal, amen," Suffice? She glanced at her mother and bit back a snicker to see that her left hand was occupied with a crossword puzzle. When she saw she was looking, Judy winked and then put the puzzle to the side now that he was winding down.

"And we thank You most of all, Lord, for your son Jesus Christ and how he died for our sins. Amen."

Quinn's agreement with that statement might have been a little loud, but her father didn't notice. Her mother finished her dainty portion first and excused herself to start on the dishes. Her father had seconds, finished his wine and then ambled away to find a decanter of scotch before Glen Beck started. Russell ignored her except to pat her head and say, "Don't eat too much, Quinnie."

She didn't eat too much. Ms. Sylvester would kill her if she found out that she'd partaken in fatty, filling food like this and the other girls' would die from jealousy. Most of their mothers' had jobs and didn't have the luxury of cooking a whole meal from scratch while sipping from the sherry and laughing at soap operas. Quinn picked at the last of the food on her plate listlessly, trying not to think of anything, for another five minutes before gathering her plate and her father's to give to her mother.

Judy smiled and kissed her cheek as she took them, "Thank you, Quinnie."

It was only after her mother turned around to keep washing the dishes that she wrapped her arms around her waist from behind and placed her head on her shoulder blade. She breathed in deeply, inhaling her and murmured, "Love you, mommy."

Judy hummed and said, "Love you too, Quinn." She sounded sincere, but distracted. Quinn let go and swallowed sadness down. Emotions like that were what the devil preyed on and prayed for. She kissed Russell's cheek with a quiet, "G'night, dad. Love you."

He patted her absentmindedly, not responding. It was only after she'd gone up most of the stairs that he called out, "Has Frannie called lately?"

"No, sir," She responded. It was the truth. She and Frannie were close by force and not by choice. They had very different personalities underneath the drive to win.

He grunted, "Must be that boy. Kinda surname's Ramses anyways. Never even heard of it."

Quinn didn't respond, but did go up the rest of the stairs. She looked through her book case and finally took down Interview With A Vampire. Her father had bought her the collection a few years ago, saying, "If you're going to read Godless literature like all those other kids, at least read good Godless books." It took her three months to realize he was talking about the Twilight series. She'd never read them, but some inane stories sounded nice. Quinn read about half of the book before pulling away to rub at her eyes. It was almost ten.

She took a shower and, in the foggy mirror, stared at her distorted image. She was perfect, wasn't she? Her eyes weren't blue, but that was irrelevant. She was blonde, borderline dishwater, she was pale, her figure was athletic but there were curves. She was the perfect cheerleader and Sue Sylvester's protégé. She had a nice boyfriend, even if he was a little grabby, with a sweet smile. She had boys flocking over her and girls aching to be her. And one stupid party could change everything. One stupid fight with a stupid boy about a stupid word and her entire world could crumble into dust.

She placed her hands on her flat stomach and tried to imagine a life in there, a little heartbeat. She stroked the skin there and turned to brush her teeth. When she spit the foam out, there were little pink flecks. Quinn rinsed the sink, pulled on her lavender pajamas and got on her knees to pray. When she was still little, the entire family would pray together. It had been comforting, then, to sit between her parents and sister and just feel. By the time she was in the third grade, her sister had left to pray on her own and her parents had determined she was old enough to do it herself. She'd never missed a night except for the four day stomach flu in seventh grade and the night of her sin.

"Dear God," She whispered. She couldn't think of more than that, at least at first. He knew what she had done, what had happened that night even if she didn't. So she closed her eyes again and said, slowly at first, then faster, just blathering on, hoping for a speck of mercy and the release of her guilt, "Dear God, please don't let me be pregnant. My parents would throw me out or make me get an abortion. Finn would know I cheated on him and that would hurt him, would hurt him more than anything. Puck shouldn't be allowed to pass his genes on with an animal, let alone me. Everything would get so screwed up. I'd be an unfit mother, more concerned with myself than a baby."

There was the gentle creak of floorboards near her door. She stood and opened the door to see her mother by the stair case. Quinn swallowed dryly, and called, "Mom?" Her voice was creaky, like an old door.

Her mother turned. She had a bright smile on her face and said, "Quinnie, I forgot to tell you, next Saturday we get you measured for the Chastity Ball. We're going to Gretchen's, and you know how packed it normally is, so be up by eight, alright?"

Quinn nodded and watched as her mother's eyes flickered to her stomach before turning around for her bedroom. She cleared her throat, "Mom?"

Judy looked back and said, "Yes, dear?"

"I love you," She replied. Her mother gave her a tight smile and continued walking. Quinn stood at her doorway, waiting for her to turn back around, but she didn't. She stayed there until she heard the snick of the door closing and the click of the door locking.

The blonde girl turned back to her room and flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. She got on her knees by the bed again but couldn't force her mouth to open and finish the prayer she'd started. So instead, she said the prayer from her childhood, "God bless my mommy, God bless my daddy, God bless my sister, God bless all the people in the world, and God bless me. Amen."

She crawled into bed and pulled them over her head, reveling in the scent of laundry detergent and spices. She dreamed of a little blonde girl with dirty knees and a gap-toothed smile that kept running backwards until she couldn't see her, that night. When she woke up, she didn't remember what it was about, but there were tears in her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 –

Quinn was up at seven o'clock sharp, the next Saturday. Rachel hadn't so much as looked at her the entire week and Mr. Ryerson was being fired for inappropriate conduct. In her opinion, it was about time. Quinn dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and her trusty white tennis shoes. She didn't look in the mirror, didn't lift her eyes any higher than she had to in the halls lest she catch her reflection in something. Her period still hadn't shown up. Her mother sat at the kitchen table with a small breakfast of toast, a mug of tea, and a single apple. The light was off in the room.

She wasn't looking at anything in particular until Quinn cleared her throat. Judy glanced at her clothes and narrowed her eyes, making her voice colder, "Would you please put on something more sensible? People will think we're raising some sort of bull dagger."

Quinn ignored her outwardly but inside her chest hurt at the term. There went any chance of her mother being her confidant about her thing with Man-Hands. But really, what was she supposed to say? "I like her and she gave me an orgasm in our auditorium, but we aren't together. I swear." That was much more likely to get her tossed out on her ass than anything else.

"Sure, mom," She replied. She didn't want to fight with her, not over this. They would have bigger issues in just a few weeks, if she decided to keep it. The teenager went up the stairs again and changed into a summer dress, fluttery around her legs, a pair of wedges, and her purse. She made sure her wallet was in there, and saw that it had fifty dollars in it. Judy must have put it in there last night, while she was asleep. When she came down again, her mother had cleaned up and left a small plate of eggs and toast with a cup of tea. She finished quickly then went upstairs to brush her teeth. She was scheduled for a dentist appointment in about a month and always cleaned her mouth more frequently around that time.

Her mother was sitting on the living room couch when she finished. Rather than reach for her keys, her mother handed her a key ring with two keys on it. One was the house key she'd thought she lost a few days ago and the other was thicker and clunky; a car key.

She made an embarrassingly choked sound and her mother smiled before saying, "Turn around."

She did. Her father was dressed for golf, but he stopped and kissed her forehead as she said her thanks. He replied, "For you to drive me to that Chastity Ball, okay? Don't get in a wreck."

Quinn hugged him tightly, smelling his aftershave and feeling his strong arms around her, wondering if when six months had passed, if he was still going to hold her like this. He let go first, handed her a crisp twenty, and she quickly headed outside the house to look at her new car. Well, if anyone thought a red, slightly rusty SUV was new.

"It's good for a few more years, until you come back from college," Her father called out.

She hugged him again, head pressed against his chest, and he gave her a wet kiss on her forehead before heading to his own car, a Mercedes-Benz. The blonde got in the car and adjusted the seat and rearview mirror before putting her seat belt on. She adjusted her seat again, just out of nerves, and then checked the side mirror closest to her before taking her right shoe off. Both of her parents drove that way, so she did as well. She turned the car on, felt the rumble and purr it made and grinned, big and wide. She could even feel her ears move. Her mother got in the car as she played with the radio, trying to find something other than the local station, which only played up-beat pop or pop-rock. Quinn turned to the oldies station as her mother snapped her seat belt on and placed her hands on her lap. She adjusted the volume so Otis Redding wasn't as loud.

"Quinnie, we need to leave," She said.

"Right, sorry," She murmured. Her mother hummed, which went up as she backed out the drive way. Quinn glanced at her, but Judy just gave a little, shaky smile. She drove to Gretchen's at twenty-five miles per hour. Every time she went any higher, her mother's fingers clenched onto the fabric of her dress and she said, "Aren't we moving a little fast?"

It took them fifteen minutes to get there even though the traffic was light, even by Lima standards, and she parallel parked because the only space on the block was between two older cars. Judy's eyes were slammed shut the entire time and she practically clawed herself out of the car once it was off. Quinn's mouth quirked into a grin as she put her shoe on and then got out to stand by her mother on the side walk. Judy was brushing her dress out even though there weren't any wrinkles on her soft teal dress and white cardigan.

Gretchen's wasn't very crowded, probably because of the early hour. There were two employees behind the counter, talking casually and drinking coffee when they saw them come in. The young man, dressed in a green dress shirt and white jeans, smiled brightly at them. His voice was high, but pleasant, and one of his hips was pressed against the countertop, "Mrs. Fabray, nice to see you. Gretchen's in the back. Would you like me to take you?"

Her mother smiled, but it was thin and frosty, "No thank you. I can find it myself."

His polite smile drooped and he replied, "Of course. Have a lovely day."

Quinn tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. As they headed through the shop, her mother murmured, "Never bring one of those home. I'm not letting it past the front door."

She didn't ask any dumb questions about what an 'it' was and didn't say that Santana and Brittany had been there before, in her room, on her bed. Her mother had never hit her, but she'd get the piss slapped out of her for that impudence. Gretchen was in the back room, just as the man had said, and hugged Judy gently to her when she saw her, "Judy, I haven't seen you in years! How've you been?"

Her mother smiled into the embrace, murmuring something back. It was a softer, more genuine smile than any she'd seen her give before, even when she'd told her about being the head cheerleader or the first date she'd gone on ever, with Finn. Quinn felt a little lost and confused and cleared her throat. Her mother let go quickly, like she was a cat who'd had their tail stepped on. Gretchen's eyes turned to her and were that much colder before she smiled. It was a professional smile, not the softness of flannel pajamas as she'd given her mother, and she said, "Oh, you must be Quinn. You look just like your mother, but have your father's eyes."

Quinn smiled back and tucked her hands behind her to keep from fidgeting as she replied, "Thank you."

Her mother cleared her throat, "Well, we're here to get her a dress for the Chastity Ball. As you know, I'm not much of a seamstress and we came here for Frances' as well."

"Your spitting image," Gretchen smiled. If it was possible, her smile was even chillier than before. After that, she was made to stand on a stool and her mother hovered as the woman took her measurements and then held swatches of fabric and color against her skin.

The seamstress said absent-mindedly, "She'd look very good in blue. Maybe tulle sleeves as well."

Her mother's voice was filled with disbelief, "For the Chastity Ball?"

Gretchen replied absentmindedly, "No, of course not. It would be for her junior prom and something very airy, nothing to retract from her features or her eyes."

Her mother grudgingly nodded, "She does look nice in blue. But for the Chastity Ball?"

"White," She answered. "What other color would do?"

The two women discussed what the gown would look like after Gretchen was finished and Quinn shifted from foot to foot out of boredom. She had a car and still couldn't get away. Judy glanced at her and said, "Why don't you leave me the car and go on home? I still have some grocery shopping to do."

Quinn was hesitant, but handed the keys to her after another moment. Home wasn't exactly where she wanted to go, after all. She left the back room and saw the young man still at the cash register, coffee cup gone. After looking behind her to ensure that her mother wasn't peeking she turned to him and said, not stopping, "I'm sorry for my mother."

He looked at her and gave her a little smile that she could see from the window. After she walked two blocks, she pulled her phone out and called Santana. At the fifth ring, Santana growled, "What, bitch? I was getting my Britt-Britt cuddles on."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Can you come pick me up? I need to get something."

The Latina grumbled before she said, "Fine, but I'm bringing B." Santana hung up, then immediately texted, bWre r u?/b

Quinn texted back, bLincoln and Marks, by LBean/b

Santana pulled up about ten minutes later in her father's Maxima. Brittany was practically asleep in the front seat but perked up when she saw Quinn and nearly crawled in the back seat to kiss her cheek enthusiastically.

"Seatbelt, B," Santana called as she pulled out into traffic. Once Brittany was seated correctly again, the driver of the car asked, "Where to, Q?"

Quinn was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you know where I can get a pregnancy test?"

Brittany turned to look at her, wide-eyed, while Santana broke into sniggers, "Good one. Now where am I taking you?"

"San," Brittany said quietly, "I don't think she's kidding."

They pulled up to a stop sign and Santana turned to look at her. Quinn wasn't sure what she saw on her face, probably hopeless despair, but Santana pulled over and said something to Brittany. Brittany nodded and crawled into the back with Quinn as Santana turned the car off and then got in the back as well, on Quinn's other side. They pulled her into a hug; the crushing kind where their smells melded into one and her face was pressed against Brittany's tank-top so all she felt was warmth and comfort. She tried to hug them both, to mash them against her until everything felt a little better. It didn't.

Santana pulled away first, turned her around and then brushed a feathery kiss against her cheek, so light she hardly felt it. It was the first time Santana had ever kissed her. Brittany kissed her cheek, just as lightly, but stayed huddled to her side. Even though Santana was only in her pajamas, she drove for almost half an hour, until they were in an even smaller town, named Spencerville. The sign when they drove in only showed a little above two thousand people. Quinn was nearly amazed that there were even smaller towns then Lima. Living there, sometimes it felt like Lima was as small and insignificant as a town could get, even if it did trap you worse than anything. And a baby, a baby was the biggest trap, the kind you couldn't drag yourself out of, bootstraps or not.

There was a pharmacy and Santana parked in front of it. There was a little white open sign on the door. Quinn's mouth was suddenly dry as Brittany and Santana opened the doors and Brittany held her hand as she got out of the car, almost like she was a little kid. Santana held the door open just long enough for them to get in and when the door swung, it hit her on the ass. The dark-haired girl sniggered and Quinn rolled her eyes before pinching her. The man behind the counter was a little older, maybe her father's age, and he watched them with disapproving eyes as they headed to the shelf that housed the tests.

They all said stupid things like: 99% accurate! Or Top Doctor's Choice! The other two looked just as confused as she did, so she scooped up five of the expensive ones and five of the cheap ones before asking, "Could one of you bring a gallon of water?" Santana went and caught up with them just as she dumped them onto the counter. The man rang them up without a smile and accepted the fifty. He held it up to the light, as if that would help, and then gave her the change. She kept the bills, crumpled and stained as they were, but gave Brittany the loose change. Her sister was supposed to be starting a coin collection or something, last she heard.

She gathered the bags and Santana took the water again. Santana drove them again, for another half an hour, back to Lima. They ended up at Brittany's house. Her parents were complete hippies and wouldn't care if Quinn looked like a house, covered in blood, or if Brittany sprouted horns and only sang Show tunes so long as they were happy or didn't complain. Mrs. Pierce waved from the couch, having a staring contest with a young kitten, and Santana booted Lord Tubbington off the staircase, where he took up a full step.

Brittany's parents, in a fit of fancy, had taken one of the smaller bedrooms and given the master with the en suite bathroom to Brittany. Once they reached the room, they left her alone. It wouldn't be entirely accurate at this point, but what other chance could she get?

It took her over an hour to pee on all the sticks and she paced back and forth, waiting on the last of them to finish. When the timer on her phone went off, she went from last to first, becoming increasingly panicked. All but one of the expensive ones had two red lines, a plus sign, a blue line, a weird purple bushel she had to check to make sure, or something else. It all meant one thing, though: She was never getting out. Quinn would live and die in Lima, regardless of her education, of her drive, of her dreams because she'd done a stupid thing with a stupid boy.

She sat and stared at the little plastic test. Quinn ran her fingers through her hair then rubbed her eyes. What was she supposed to do now?

Her first thought, shamefully enough, was of a free clinic. Lima had one, but it was in the really bad section of town, hence why she hadn't gone for the pregnancy test. She was underage but Santana made fake ID's so it wasn't that big of an issue. But the only available time for her to do that was today or Sunday, and if the movies were right, she'd be feeling sick and off the rest of the day. But then she thought about telling Santana to make her one and seeing the sadness and pity in her eyes and found she couldn't do it.

There was a knock on the door before Brittany said, "Quinn, Sanny and I are going downstairs for breakfast. Mama's making blueberry pancakes."

"Thanks, B. Just let me clean up."

There was a short pause before Brittany asked, "Are you gonna have a baby?" Her voice was even lower than usual and her normal monotone had something like worry in it. Brittany may not have been the smartest person ever, but she knew what happened when you had babies in Lima or were stupid in Lima or anything but completely ruthless in Lima.

The truth, she thought. Tell the truth, she won't tell. "No, B. No baby," She replied. Leave the unusual, kill the weak. Nothing was weaker than a pregnant woman.

Brittany was quiet again, "Kay. But if you did have one, I'd help. I-I mean, I'm not smart or whatever, but I work with Randy a lot and I'd babysit. I like kids."

Quinn sniffled and wiped her eyes, "I know. Thank you. When I'm an adult and have one, you can help me." If no one else deserved to get out, it would be Man Hands and Brittany. She knew Santana took care of Brittany a lot, but she was too good for Lima, too good for Santana too, who would never tell the truth to be with her. They were alike in that respect.

Brittany sounded more enthused, "Awesome. We can name her Ducky."

She heard her footsteps troop away and then placed her head in her hands and cried again. She didn't sob or anything, just little tears, which made her mouth taste salty. She checked under the sink and found an empty plastic bag. She put all of the pregnancy tests in there and tied it up. It was less than a pound, probably, but it may as well have been a ton for all it meant. She forced it into her purse. Quinn washed her face and eyes and headed downstairs. Mrs. Pierce made the best pancakes ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 5 –

Quinn shouldn't have been hungry, but ate her fill and then some of pancakes and bacon, mostly to avoid Santana's eyes. Santana had been looking at her suspiciously ever since she'd shaken her head when she first looked at her. Mrs. Pierce made sure they were well-situated before going downstairs, snagging something that looked suspiciously like a bong as she went. Brittany and her little sister and brother, Friedrich and Hare respectively, ate most of what she didn't. Santana picked at her single pancake and shoved at her hash browns, eating about half. Santana had always been a small eater but it was becoming more apparent that she was actively avoiding eating. Coach Sylvester did have them weighed every three days but a pancake wouldn't kill her.

"S'no' good?" Friedrich asked Santana, most of her eggs in her mouth. Missing her two front teeth from falling off the jungle gym last week, she had a pronounced lisp, even without the food. Her big blue eyes were very innocent so Santana shook her head and ate another bite. Satisfied, the seven-year-old turned back to her meal, although it was mostly swiped clean. The eleven-year-old boy's however, was practically flooded with syrup. He seemed to delight in pretending to drown his food, complete with sound effects before eating it. Brittany was almost as bad, talking to it in high-pitched voices.

After breakfast, Brittany normally took Hare to his peewee baseball practice and Friedrich to her soccer practice before going for a run. In order for her to stay on Cheerios and motocross, she took her siblings everywhere they needed since putting her in the kitchen or the laundry room to do other chores was a disaster waiting to happen. Today, Quinn rode with them home. Her car still wasn't there, so she let herself in. She changed into pajamas and then took the little plastic bag out. She untied it, laid the plastic strips on her desk, and stared. Less than fifty dollars, and her whole life was ruined. Finn's life, too; she hadn't even thought about him, not since she'd first done the deed and when Google told her she was pregnant.

She closed her eyes and said, softly, under her breath, "Shit." They'd had chances of getting out, and now they were ruined. No one had a baby in Lima and got out, not unless they were shipped off somewhere, to another little town, or had a shotgun wedding to someone in the military. Even when you gave the baby up, it followed you, branding you with stretch marks and an empty heart, destined to live and die in Lima.

School was less than productive, after the revelation. She just kept thinking about the little embryo inside her. It hadn't ruined her, that wasn't its fault that she wasn't smart enough to not be drunk around a bunch of guys, mainly Puck. Quinn touched her stomach, sometimes, but there wasn't much to feel. That didn't stop her dreams, though.

The first one was that Saturday. She'd gone to sleep early, after prayers. She appeared in her room, but she knew she was asleep, so she didn't panic, just moved to the bathroom, letting the dream do as it would. Quinn pulled her shirt off and looked down at her abs, hard and defined. Slowly, so slowly, the lines disappeared and her stomach began to distend into this huge balloon before the rest of her did as well. She was floating, head bumping against the ceiling.

She floated along, seemingly invisible, through the walls and out onto the street. She had just started to recognize the neighborhood when she appeared inside of Rachel's bedroom. The brunette was asleep, clinging to a knitted blanket, black with bright gold and icy blue stars in the fabric. There was something weird about her though, that Quinn couldn't define. Her mouth was a little plump, her lashes looked paler. She kept looking, just with her eyes, and just when she'd thought she'd found it, in the junction of her thighs, hidden by flannel pajamas, she was suddenly awake again, staring at the ceiling.

Still, at least during school, she could keep busy. With all honors classes, her homework load was ridiculous. Luckily, Finn was struggling in his normal classes and two honors leaving Quinn alone for the most part. He only really noticed when someone pointed out that they hadn't been seen together in a while. She was just starting to wish she'd picked someone slightly more observant before the party, but now she was fine with it. She'd end up ruining his life soon enough.

Everything seemed fine until Mr. Schuester decided to replace Mr. Ryerson. Mr. Ryerson being fired was perfectly fine; the guy was creepy and a real pervert, not just gay like Mr. Fieldson, who was cool. Somehow, Mr. Schuester had talked Finn into going into it and everyone was calling him gay.

Then it turned out he wasn't being gay, just an idiot. The worst part was that Finn didn't wait until they were alone to be idiotic; he'd had to do it in front of the entire school. The song itself was hilarious and funny, really well choreographed, but he was seductively dancing with Rachel. Anyone else and she might have forgiven it, made him grovel for a while then let it go. But not Rachel; never Rachel.

She had to infiltrate them and keep them away from each other. It wouldn't do for her to be pregnant and for her boyfriend to cheat on her. Luckily, Ms. Sylvester came through for her. Well, not her, exactly, closer to keeping the Cheerios from being usurped but it was a positive affect for her.

She, Brittany and Santana joined the Glee club. The main thing they had to do was break them up and crush Rachel Berry's spirit. Personally, Quinn didn't think that was possible. None of the frozen drinks or names or drawings or rumors had bothered Rachel at all and she doubted taking a few of her solos here and there would affect her either.

The thing was that no one had predicted just how damn awkward it would be. The Glee club was united by chaos. They fought, bickered, and did much more talking than singing. Even the Asian chick and the kid in the wheelchair (Arly? Harley?) put their two cents in and Mr. Schue was a horrible coordinator. Ms. Sylvester would never have allowed such strife, if she had to beat it out of them. More than that, she and Rachel had a lot of history, most of it bad. Rachel could barely look her in the eye most of the time and issued a formal apology after practice one day.

She was putting 'The Old Man and the Sea' away when Rachel cleared her throat. The room was empty, even of the piano guy, and she said, not looking at Quinn, "I wish to extend my apologies to you about our sordid affair a week and a half ago. I was overly aggressive and I'm unsure why I engaged you in such. However, I would like to say, if you are in agreement, that our coupling was not horrendous and that if you ever wish to engage in activities such as that again, you know where to find me."

Quinn stood stock-still until Rachel left and then sat abruptly in a chair, lapsing into almost hysterical laughter before she headed to her car and drove home. She worked on homework until it was time for dinner and as soon as she was finished, turned back to finish her geometry homework, the last assignment for the day. Her cellphone's text ringer started and she pulled it out to look at who it was. She bit her lip, seeing it was Finn. She flipped the lock upwards and, without looking at the words, slid it so that the red delete option appeared, and pressed it.

About ten minutes later a new one was sent, also from Finn. She ignored it and turned to her literature textbook to get ahead of the class. Quinn was only on the second page of the reading she'd selected when her phone chirped again. She turned it off and tossed it on her bed. After she finished the reading, she packed her things away and headed to the bathroom for her shower. She was drying her hair when she figured it was okay to turn her phone back on. The Sprint screen showed seven voicemails, thirty-two texts and twelve missed calls from Finn. One text was from Brittany, who appeared to have been sexting Santana, and one was from Rachel. Well, three were from Rachel, but it was really one split by the limited amount of characters.

**Hello, Quinn. This is Rachel. I thought that it would be appropriate to text you that I would like to invite you as well as the other Glee club members, of course, to a picnic in order to promote a sense of wellbeing in our very conflicted club. The picnic's tentative date is this Saturday, the nineteenth. Please text back with your reply.**

For a moment she hesitated. There was absolutely no need for her to go unless she was going to make fun of the poor thing. However, this could be an opportunity to get closer to Rachel, even if it was with other people. In the end, she decided to ignore it. If Berry didn't understand by now that it wasn't going to be that simple, then she was either an idiot or determined. Considering she was with Finn, she ought to know what stupid looked like.

She shifted uncomfortably in her bed, thinking about Rachel and Finn, about her baby, Brittany, Santana, and Glee. The other members, all four of them, were severely distrustful of them, so splitting them up would be hard. They needed someone to break their spirits, someone professional, not just some girls. Slowly, she reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts for Santana.

**U wanna do what u do best? She sent.**

The reply was almost instantaneous. **who am I fucking up?**

**Mouthbreathers. Fast.**

**I gots u.**

The next day Santana showed her an e-mail from some guy called Dakota something, Stanley or Riley; who cared as long as he got results. "He's the best," Santana explained. "Won a bunch of trophies, we could sell this to them easy."

She shook her head, "Not them, just Treasure Trail. They do what she says, no matter how much they complain."

Santana frowned a little, "That is sort of weird. I mean, if I hated someone as much as they claim Man Hands, I'd have been out of that club faster than you can say 'cunt.'"

She laughed at the look on Quinn's face, "Well, faster than I can say it, virgen de Guadalupe."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You aren't Mexican; you're Puerto Rican."

Santana grinned, "Bet the blanquitos don't know that."

Quinn nearly said something but then straightened when she saw Rachel. She and Santana looked at one another and nodded, each walking to either side of Rachel. She'd originally intended to be intimidating, but Rachel's eyes, sad and wide but trusting, pierced her. Something had told her to text Rachel. She caught Santana's eye and gestured for her to leave. Santana raised an eyebrow, unmoving, so Quinn did it again, harsher and jerkier, an unmistakable leave. The other girl rolled her eyes again but left, handing the paper to Quinn.

"C'mon," She mumbled to Rachel and headed towards the physics class. Mr. Green usually left around this time for lunch, but he never locked his door. She turned the light on and sat on top of one of the desks. Rachel sat across from her. They were quiet before Rachel said, "You didn't text back." She didn't sound accusing, just resigned and sad as if it were an everyday occurrence. For her, it probably was.

Quinn almost winced, thinking about how she'd known that would come back and bite her in the ass. Instead she said, "I didn't get it, my phone is off."

Rachel's eyes brightened until they were nearly a molten color, "Then you'll come?"

Her voice was very hopeful, so hopeful that Quinn couldn't crush it, "Sure. Just, um, give me your address and cell or whatever. I'll call you on my house phone later."

Berry had already torn a strip of paper off and written it in her loopy scrawl. Quinn quickly did the math and realized that the address was different from the house that she'd seen before, further out of town and on the other side of Quinn's house. This meant that at the beginning of the year, at that party where she'd gotten pregnant, Rachel had gone at least ten blocks out of her way in order to take her home, and it was not the convenience Quinn had originally thought.

At the bottom, past the cell phone and home number and address, was written, "Ask for Spencer."

Quinn frowned, "Who is Spencer?"

Rachel's cheeks turned pink, "It's my legal name. I have had Rachel written down as my preferred name since third grade, but Abba-Leh doesn't want me changing it until I am eighteen and can make an informed decision and he refuses to acknowledge my preferred name as well."

Abba-Leh? What in the world did that mean? And Spencer Berry sounded pretty weird, like a guy's name. Then again, her name was Quinn. They sounded like a couple of boys, with names like that. Quinn and Spencer; it didn't flow as well as Rachel and Quinn.

At seeing Quinn's confused face, Rachel clarified, "It's Hebrew for dad. Well, Abba is father and leh is added for affection, so something like daddy or papa. We've started infusing Hebrew into my everyday vocabulary for my summer trip to Israel to visit my grandparents."

Quinn shifted from foot to foot. Was it okay to make small talk now? Rachel looked poised to ramble so she asked, "Do you go every year?"

The brunette shook her head, "No. The trip is too expensive, and normally we visit Papa's family in California for the majority of the summer, so this will be my first time in Israel since I was very young."

Rachel looked hesitant after revealing so much, so Quinn said, "Nice. The furthest I've ever been from Lima was Pennsylvania to visit my aunt. All I really remember is that bell and how it smelled bad." Say what you wanted about Lima, it had very little pollution or smog.

Rachel beamed but confessed, "I don't remember much of Israel. Just that it was crowded and busy and lots of men wore yarmulkes. I remember the Wall, a little. I pulled one out, but it was written in Hebrew so I put it back."

There wasn't much to say. "Cool," Quinn replied. She'd have to look up Judaism if Rachel was going to just keep casually inserting them like they didn't live in Lima, OH. Rachel glanced at her watch, a delicate thing, and frowned, "I apologize for running this conversation short, Quinn, but I agreed to have lunch with Finn since he gave me your number. He was very upset that you didn't respond last night, so I'll tell him your phone was off."

Her stomach ached, not just from not eating, but with the knowledge that Finn was moving in on Rachel. Not that there was much to move on to; she and Rachel were barely civil most of the time, and neither of them was gay. Well, she wasn't gay and she was fairly certain that gay people didn't actually raise gay kids and that was just her daddy being a bigot and a Republican. Besides, Rachel was likely to be someone not worried about labels or bodies and was concerned with the mental and the soul. Which really begged the question why she was interested in Finn since he couldn't count past fourteen (she'd seen him try and it was pathetic) and he was possibly more self-centered than she was.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a small hand on her cheek. Rachel's soft hand felt warm and gentle against her; she resisted the urge to turn her head and kiss her palm, or to tell her that Man Hands was an absolute lie. Rachel peered up at her, looking concerned, before saying, "Are you okay? You look pale."

Quinn mustered up a smile, "Not all of us have year-round tans, Berry. How do you do it, anyways?"

Rachel looked slightly confused, and then returned the expression, "It's my natural color. My Abba-Leh isn't that dark, so I suppose my surrogate mother passed it on." Her mouth tapered off into a concerned line, "But are you honestly okay? I can take you to the nurse and cancel with Finn."

She opened her mouth to say no, she was fine, but what came out was, "Please? My stomach hurts."

Rachel took her hand tenderly, the left one, branding it again, "Of course." The nurse's office was near Miss Pillsbury's room and they could see her talking to Joey Marsh, trying to hand him a pamphlet; his red eyes followed them for a few feet before drifting off to a corner. The nurse took one glance at Quinn and said, "Grab a bed, dear, you look tired. I'll send your friend to get your classwork after you fall asleep."

Quinn was glad she didn't have to ask for Rachel to stay. That would veer past potential friendship and into crush territory pretty quickly. The brunette, rather than the nurse, fussed over her, settling the blanket on her, fluffing her pillow, and giving her a bottle of water since nurses weren't allowed to give them drugs. She would probably have done more but Quinn took her hand in one of hers, so she sat and watched her. It should have felt creepy, but there was no malicious intent or the cold look she'd seen before. Just as she was drifting off Rachel looked behind her and then kissed her forehead, cheeks, fluttering eyelids, a soft, barely there press to her lips and then, finally, her palm.

Rachel pressed her nose against her hand gently, across the longest line. Quinn could feel her breath against the skin of her palm and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was alone. She rolled onto her side but heard the sound of crumbling paper. She searched on the side of the bed and found a stack of homework assignments and a small note folded origami style into a star. She was reluctant, but unfolded the paper to read the note.

"Quinn,

Thought you could use the extra rest. I've taken the liberty of collecting your homework assignments and notes for the day. If you need anything once school is over before this Saturday, you have my number and Finn said he would also be available.

- Rachel B. Berry "

Quinn smiled and sat up to reach for her book bag. She placed the papers in a folder and struggled to make the paper into the star that Rachel had but found she couldn't, so she folded it into a square and placed it in the front pocket of her book bag, where she kept her phone. She pulled the phone out to program Rachel's number in it, but it showed the number under the name Spencer B. Quinn's smile stretched more and she placed it back in the pocket. Her watch told her it was just past one and she had one more class to get through. The nurse gave her a pass and she ducked into the math class. Mr. Gilbert gave her a suspicious look but she took her seat and finished the lesson.

In the last fifteen minutes of school, once most of the chaos had set in, she grabbed a phone off a table from some stupid kid and sent Rachel a text.

**How would you feel if I could help you win Sectionals?**

The text was almost instantaneous.

**That would be lovely. May I ask why you would inquire such, stranger?**

Quinn bit her lip and thought before sending another text off.

**Don't worry about that. Just contact Dakota Stanley**

Rachel didn't text back but Quinn knew she'd sown the seeds of discord. She tossed the phone back on the kid's desk and decided to wait until Friday's practice rather than bothering anything. She was feeling satisfied for most of the day and well into the night, until she had a bout of morning sickness at three in the morning that Thursday. Her father walked by but only said, "Keep it down, Quinn. I'm glad you're taking the initiative on your weight but I've got a meeting tomorrow and I need to be on top of my game."

Her voice was croaky when she replied, "Right, I'm sorry."

She thrust her head over the toilet and vomited again, so hard her stomach clenched tight.

He closed the door.

When sunrise came she looked paler than normal and she was tired. She just barely kept at the front of the pack during morning practice and Santana had smacked her on the back of the head more than once to tell her she was slowing down and that she needed to speed up. Her head hurt by the end of practice but her day started to look up when she found a Nutri-Grain bar and an individual box of vanilla Silk soymilk in her locker on the way to first period. Not a large amount of people knew that she preferred soymilk to regular milk although she wasn't lactose intolerant, and as it was more expensive, it was a rare treat when the cafeteria had it.

Quinn ate them before first period and was immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Rachel waving to her in their English class. Luckily, Rachel kept pretty quiet, only answering some of the questions and not adding her own facts and anecdotes as she normally did. Even her voice, normally projected for maximum value with minimum effort, was quieter. Did she know Quinn wasn't feeling up to par today?

Quinn smiled at her when class ended and Rachel beamed back at her. If a room was dark enough, she was fairly certain that Rachel's smile would be more than enough light. Now that she thought of it, Rachel's teeth had been straight even in elementary school and felt a little jealous. That jealousy slunk away when she saw Finn's tall form and hurried onto her third period. There was no way she could deal with him today when she felt so vulnerable. Maybe in fifth she could do better.

Luckily, she didn't have to. Mr. Fieldson separated them because there was a group assignment and he didn't want couples working together. Instead, she was paired with the black kid who used to go to her church. There was very little she remembered about him other than that and his name started with an 'M.' He was very quiet, though, and they worked together in silence. He nodded at her when they left, but that was the only acknowledgement that she received. She went to the nurses' for lunch when she saw Finn ask Santana something and took a power nap.

Seventh period was much different. Puck leered at her when he wasn't flirting with the teacher and listening to him speak made her stomach ache. That was half of her baby's genes? She'd be lucky if it didn't come out macking on the nurse. Practice after school was a little harder than before. She was better rested but her balance felt off and she nearly fell twice. She'd had to add an extra flip to make sure it went unnoticed. Ms. Sylvester then added that to the routine and they went through the entire thing four more times before she let them go home. They had to be back on the field by seven for the game, so this wasn't much of a break.

She called Rachel just as she'd told her on the house phone before dinner, when she normally took her nap. The voice that answered was gruff and short, with a faintly accented, "Hello?"

Quinn licked her lips. Rachel must have left her cellphone somewhere. "Um, hi. Is R-"

She paused, thinking of what Rachel had herself listed under, "Is Spencer there?"

"Please wait," he muttered. Heavy boot steps echoed all the way through the phone and she heard the knocking of a door, "Spencer?" Everything else was, while not indistinguishable, in another language. Another voice, familiar and pitched higher responded. All she understood was abba-leh. She heard a door close before Rachel said, "Hello?" She sounded impersonal but not cold.

"Hey, it's, um, it's me." She then hastily added, "Quinn, I mean Quinn."

"Oh, hello Quinn," Rachel said. Her voice was much warmer and friendlier now. It made Quinn wonder how she could switch it up so quickly. She could only really maintain pissed, angry, irritated, dutiful, and apathetic for longer than five minutes. "How has your day been so far?"

"It's been nice," She replied. "I found a Nutri-Grain bar and some soymilk in my locker, though. Would you happen to know anything about it?"

"Guilty. I've seen you drink them at lunch and everyone likes Nutri-Grain. I figured I couldn't go wrong."

Quinn smiled at her thoughtfulness, "Thanks. It really came in handy; I didn't eat breakfast this morning."

She could hear the indignity in her tone, "Quinn! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and sets the tone for the rest of the day. I know for a fact that Ms. Sylvester has the cheerleading squad out there from very early and the necessary vitamins and nutrients that can be found in something as simple as a banana can stop you from becoming undernourished and eventually sick."

"Sorry, guess I'll have to eat more often." Then she thought about her father closing the door that morning on her becoming ill and said, "My parents think I'm gaining too much weight, though."

Rachel's voice was softer, when she next spoke, "Your weight is fine, Quinn. If anything, I'm certain you could do with a little extra gain. There's nothing wrong with being healthy, but if you're so concerned, I can assure you that you'll still be the prettiest girl I've ever met."

Quinn opened her mouth to say, "So are you." To say, "I've liked you since I was in the fourth grade." To murmur, "I think you are absolutely perfect." Even to blurt out, "I'm pregnant and I'm panicking and I have no clue about what to do."

None of that happened.

But what did happen was that she burst into tears. Rachel spoke to her gently, the little sounds people always made. When she was a little quieter, Rachel said, "Would you like for me to go to your house?"

Quinn sniffled, "No. I'll just see you on Saturday."

"Are you certain?" Rachel asked. "I know it may seem like an outdated mode of transportation but I can be there within twenty minutes on my bicycle."

Quinn gave a watery smile, "I'm sure. On Saturday, promise."

"Well, then. I suppose you don't want to talk about English class either?"

She chuckled, "No, maybe I can call you tomorrow, if you're up for it."

"Talking to a beautiful girl on the phone? Always."

Her smile was sudden and bright, and she wished Rachel was there to see it so she could say, "This is what you do to me with just a simple sentence." She wished Rachel was there to press her hand against her chest and say, "This is where you should be."

What she did say was, "Bye, Rachel."

"Shalom, Quinn."

Dinner was quiet, as it always was, and she kept thinking of Rachel willing to bike across town for her. Was Finn even willing to stop playing video games? As much as he tried to talk to her on the phone and at school, he'd never come to her house and asked to talk to her or left a note in her locker.

She was still thinking about that, what lengths either of them would go through for her, before she went to the game. Finn didn't even wave on the field as they were annihilated by the other team. The Cheerios demolished the other cheerleaders, but of course only their parents noticed. She didn't have the balloon dream that night, but a vastly shorter and upbeat dream. She was giving the baby a bath, smoothing down the soft white-blond hair, when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She looked back to see Rachel's hair, the soft curls she'd seen in elementary school, and felt a mouth against the nape of her neck. Quinn woke up with no recollection, just a content feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Friday was a little easier. Her only real problems were her fourth period, where Finn kept trying to look at her biology test and sixth, where Rachel was given a swirlie and had to run without a shirt since Ms. Sylvester wouldn't let her run with a wet shirt or get another one. Quinn tried not to notice how all of her was the same golden tan.

The Dakota Stanley plan didn't work out as well as anticipated. He'd insulted the original five kids and Finn, but she hadn't counted on Finn growing a backbone. Her hands fisted at her sides when he talked back. If anyone had ever insulted her, including some of his football buddies, he never did anything beyond giving an uncomfortable smile or a, "Dude, quit." Here he'd hardly ever spoken to Rachel but then he talked back to an older man. The only thing that saved him was that Rachel didn't give him her glow-in-the-dark grin, but a rather subdued smile, as if to say, "Idiot, you realize your girlfriend is there, right?" Obviously not.

Rachel called her that night, around the same time they'd talked the night before. She made sure to keep the portable house phone in her room just in case. She didn't want her parents to find out they were talking; they'd probably drag her to get an exorcism. She was only half joking - her mother had been raised Catholic and believed in holy water like it was the tears of Jesus himself.

The conversation was a little longer and they did actually talk about their English work.

"I just feel as if we're progressing very slowly," Rachel complained. "I read The Scarlet Letter in the seventh grade. I'm very unsure of what if any more knowledge can be gleaned from it, if any, especially with a teacher that rarely gives an alternative outlook on anything I say."

Quinn laughed, "Is that why you're always talking? I just thought you liked the sound of your own voice."

"Harhar. Contrary to popular belief, I do not speak merely to hear my own voice. If you will recall, I rarely spoke at all in elementary school."

The blonde smiled fondly at the memory of the girl Rachel had been. She still remembered the soft-looking curls, long legs, and the big eyes that she'd mostly been.

Quinn leaned back on her bed, getting more comfortable, before she asked, "Why was that? I mean, you went from not saying anything to not stopping."

There was a humming sound as Rachel thought. "I don't know," She finally admitted. "I suppose it was because when I was younger I was always picked on and everything I said was taken out of context. And in middle school I tried to be more social but everyone still picked on me so instead I was just polite and quiet. When high school came, being polite didn't help me at all so I decided that it was fine to voice my opinions."

There was a rueful chuckle, "Do you know I've only ever had two friends besides you? And that was for less than a year."

Guilt smacked her in the chest. She could have helped Rachel. She'd have been her friend. Her voice was so low she was surprised that the receiver picked up on it, "I'm sorry."

Rachel made a small sound. She wasn't sure if it was a sigh or something else, "For what?"

"For everything," She whispered. "I'm sorry for not staying as your friend; for not being nice to you in freshman year; for never sticking up for you."

She heard static as the phone shifted before hearing Rachel's voice again, "That's not your fault Quinn. Our paths were set long before you were mean to me, before we were even born. That's like apologizing for the moon being silver or the Sun being bright."

"I'd apologize for that too, if you wanted me to."

Rachel was quiet.

"Rachel?"

"I'm here. I just need a moment."

She could hear Rachel's breathing before she said, "I'm sorry I kissed Finn."

Her mouth went dry. Her eyes were dry, too, and she rubbed them before licking her lips. Her voice was a croak, "What?"

"Before you joined Glee, we kissed. I'm sorry I never told you."

She curled onto her side, phone pressed harshly to her ear. Her chest hurt; it felt like an overinflated balloon, about to pop. Or like the day after Puck's party, when it felt like heartburn and heartache. Her breathing felt funny but she still asked, "Why?"

"Why what? That I never told you or that I did it?"

"Why did you kiss?"

"I don't know either. That's what you do in the movies, isn't it? You meet a boy and he's nice to you but he already has someone so you pine until the two of you kiss and it's all sparks and rainbows. And then you get together, and everything's fine."

The words were out of her mouth before she could think, "Was it worth it?"

Rachel's voice was honest, so honest she could almost feel it, could almost see it gleaming in her dark eyes, like the day they kissed, "No. It wasn't worth a fraction of your sadness right now."

"How can you tell I'm sad?" Quinn asked. She didn't know if sadness felt like her insides were ice and everything was numb. She wanted a blanket, one with stars, like in her dream. Would that make her warm?

"I can hear you sniffling."

Quinn rubbed her eyes. Sure enough, there was liquid there. No wonder her chest hurt. "Oh."

"I wish I was there so I could hug you," Rachel said.

Quinn was honest, "I wish you were here so I could punch you and push you out my window."

"I'd let you. Then I'd get up, go back into your room and hug you again."

She hung up.

She ignored the phone when Rachel called back and didn't answer her phone calls that day or Sunday. An eye for an eye. A heart break for a heart break.

The next Monday, there was a box of Silk soymilk, a teddy bear with a topaz argyle sweater with a star stitched onto it and a red bowtie, and two Nutri-Grain bars in her locker. One was strawberry flavored and the other was apple. Next to the bear was a note, folded into a heart.

She was about to touch it when she heard Finn call, "Quinn? There you are."

Quinn slammed her locker shut and walked away. It was too much, way too much too soon. She didn't have time, or a lie or anything but the pain in her chest. He followed with his long stride and caught her shoulder, "Why have you been avoiding me? What's wrong?"

She was crying again, she could already tell. She opened her mouth to say that she knew about him and Rachel. What came out was, "I'm pregnant."

He stood stock-still, face blank before devastation spread across it. Ground zero all over again. Finn knew what it meant. Everyone knew what a high school pregnancy meant.

He pointed to himself, "Is-is it mine?"

This part she knew, "Of course it is, silly. Who else's would it be?"

"But-but," He sputtered. "We never-"

She interrupted him, glancing around. No one was looking at them, thank God. There was no need for everyone to know that her boyfriend had the mind of a seven-year-old.

"Last month? The hot tub?"

He protested, "But we had our bathing suits on."

And you came before I was in your pants, she thought dryly, forget the bathing suit. "Ask Jeeves said it's the perfect temperature. Something about the heat makes them swim faster or something."

His mouth formed an 'o.' Surely he knew she was lying. Surely he was going to call her out on her bullshit and demand the truth.

"So a month?" He finally asked. Finn hadn't caught on. God really was looking out for her. She nodded and pressed her face against his chest. He smelled like boy, grass and Axe. Her nose wrinkled and she turned her face so she could smell fresh air. "I really thought I had a shot of getting out of here," She whispered. He kissed the top of her head.

Quinn didn't have a chance to go back to her locker before the end of Cheerio's practice. Everything was still there. She devoured the bars, cursing Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse diet, and drank her milk quickly. The note read,

"Dear Quinn,

I'm sorry for hurting you. As a token of my apology, you may now have Theodore Berry. He's been my companion since I was five.

- Rachel B. Berry "

She bit her lip and ripped the note up until she couldn't anymore. She took the bear and meant to throw him in the trash but couldn't. She put him back in her locker and headed home. Quinn felt listless and cold. She pulled on a sweater and a pair of sweat pants but still didn't feel warm. She went to bed right after dinner and didn't dream or wake up during the night.

She was in third period before she realized why Rachel had named the bear Theodore and couldn't stop herself from smiling. The smile disappeared before the end of lunch, when Puck ran after her and said, "So who's the daddy?"

Quinn's face became colder as she said, "What are you talking about?"

"Finn's my boy," he smirked. "I think I'd know if you two had sex."

"You make it a habit of sleeping with your boy's girlfriend?"

He frowned, "What're you talking about? I didn't fuck you."

She paled so quickly he stepped forwards to help hold her up. She pushed his arms away and croaked, "What?"

"I didn't fuck you. I was with Tracy Gollight that night. Took her anal cherry. I just drank with you."

He looked at her face, really looked at her face and his own softened, "You really don't remember who you were with that night?"

She shook her head, lips pressed tight to keep from crying.

He rubbed his Mohawk, "Damn, Quinn. Shit. Um, I'd ask Berry. I think she was there." He gave her another pitying look, patted her shoulder awkwardly, and then left.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Did everything lead back to Rachel?

The halls were still crowded but she heard the clack of Mary Jane's across linoleum floor as if they were gun shots, before Rachel inquired, "Quinn? May I speak with you privately?"

She rubbed her eyes harder, "Just spit it out here. No one's paying us any attention."

"I was with you that night," Rachel said. Quinn lowered her hands and glared at her darkly. Rachel met her eyes head on. There was no deceit in her eyes, just that frankness and brightness, as if there was too much of her for her skin.

"You may have been with me that night," She replied, "But there's no way this is your problem."

Rachel took her hand in one of her own. Her hands were soft and a little moist. They were smaller than Quinn's, but still a little large for her body, and they held her tightly. That didn't make any sense. Was she nervous?

The brunette looked at her hand. "Yes, it is. I was with you that night; more so, I was the only one with you that night."

Her voice was choked, "That's impossible. I'm pregnant, Rachel, not gay."

Rachel tugged her through the halls until they were in the clinic. The nurse wasn't there. Rachel pushed her to sit on a bed. Rachel's fingers were fumbling when she unbuttoned and unzipped her deliciously short skirt and pushed until they were around her knees. Quinn felt her ears and face flush, "Rachel, what are you-"

Her breath caught. Nestled between Rachel's thighs lay a penis.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: T for first two, M later on

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Author's Notes: Chapter six, on time, and about double the length of the previous chapter.F

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 6 –

The air whooshed out of Quinn's lungs. The first thing out of her mouth was also the first thing she thought, "It's a fake."

Rachel's voice sounded far away, but firm, "I assure you, it is not." In a manner that was strangely unselfconscious, she lifted her penis to show that the skin was taut, so it was connected to something even if she couldn't see what. You're pregnant, idiot, she thought. Of course you know what they're connected to. Alright, so somehow Rachel had **tucked** herself in there and wore a skirt everyday, kissed her boyfriend, changed for gym, and no one had noticed an unseemly bulge?

"You're a boy?" She asked. Part of her was hopeful. This meant she wasn't gay, didn't have any homosexual tendencies at all, really. Her body just knew what her mind didn't. The rest of her felt cold. This meant she could very well be pregnant with Rachel's baby, and trapping her.

Rachel shook her head. "I am a woman."

"How?" She asked. The words hurt to get out.

Rachel pulled her clothes back into place and sat next to her. "I-" She bit her lip, frowned, looking very contemplative, and then said in a voice that was curiously flat, "I'm an intersexual. I have male and female sexual characteristics. I-I shouldn't be able to, to get you pregnant but I did."

Quinn rubbed her eyes, "I don't- I don't understand."

The brunette frowned, "What's not to understand? Would you prefer for me to clarify it?"

If anything, it was too clear. The image was stark in her head; a little baby, pale and skinny, attached to a bunch of tubes, a green blanket because they weren't sure to swaddle it in blue or pink. It. But it was staring at her with big, teary brown eyes and a pink mouth that was getting bitten to death and wringing hands. It was wearing a skirt and a sweater vest and Mary Jane's. It was just barely past five feet and had a penis and had breasts. The other girl shook her head, eyes covered by the heels of her hands. "No. Just, give me a minute."

"Of course."

It had a voice like an angel, the kind that swallowed you whole, like Jonah and the whale and a painfully sincere smile that showed all of its teeth and wouldn't leave Quinn alone, no matter how much she tried. Quinn stopped rubbing her eyes and took a deep breath. It was Rachel, who had kissed her and made her orgasm in the auditorium. So, it was Rachel, who was a girl.

"You are a girl."

"Yes," Rachel responded.

"But you have a," She felt her cheeks flush and she almost whispered, "a penis and a vagina."

There was no pink on Rachel's face, and she scratched under her nose briefly, "Yes. Well, not much of a vagina. It's more like a -" she paused. "Never mind, yes, I do.

"It is a fully functioning penis, equipped with the ability to get women pregnant."

"Apparently so."

"Right. And now I'm pregnant and it's not Puck's and it's not Finn's; it's your baby."

Rachel blinked, "Yes. I suppose it is mine." A few seconds passed before Rachel abruptly paled. Granted, she was darker than Quinn still, but she blinked a little slower.

Quinn reached out and took Rachel's hand. Rachel rubbed under her nose and said, "Oh."

Then, with a little more feeling, "Oh! Wow."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Wow." That was an understatement if ever there was one.

Rachel looked pensive, before saying, "Are you going to have an abortion?" Her voice was small.

She resisted the urge to ask her what the sense in that was, to tell her she was pregnant and then go for an abortion and instead she shook her head, "No. No, I can't. It's not an option."

They were quiet for a little while and Quinn saw Rachel looking at her from her peripheral vision. She turned to look at Rachel fully. Her eyes were practically sparkling as she looked at Quinn's face, then her stomach. Her voice was hushed even as color began to go back to her face, "You're having my baby."

"If you start singing that song, I'll hit you."

Rachel gave her a hurt look. It was doubled by the large, dark eyes, the pouty bottom lip, and the curve of her overlong black lashes, and Quinn wondered how anyone had ever managed to deny her anything. God, it probably explained the thing with Finn and why she was so spoiled. Who could resist a face like that? "Even I'm not that insensitive Quinn. Singing doesn't help everything, as much as I'd like to believe otherwise."

The bell rang loudly, before Quinn could say anything, and Rachel stood before pulling her up and hugging her tightly. "We'll get through this," Rachel murmured to her. Her breath was hot on Quinn's ear before they separated. "Will your parents be supportive?"

Quinn didn't even think before shaking her head, "They'll throw me out."

Rachel looked aghast, "But you're their child!"

Quinn gave her a sad smile, "I know. Not everyone's parents are all gung-ho about everything."

A flush crawled up Rachel's neck and she blinked quickly. "Would you like for me to tell my fathers ahead of time, just in case?"

Quinn bit her lip to keep from saying no, because seriously, what else could they do, who would she stay with otherwise?

"Would you get in trouble?"

"Yes. I'll likely get into less than Noah, but I promise to own up to my responsibility."

Quinn frowned, "What does Puck have to do with anything?"

"He's my god brother. The Jewish community of Lima is very small, but we're very, what's the term, tight. But as he's very embarrassed of me, he has pretended not to know me since elementary school. He's also older than me, so he's supposed to take responsibility for certain things, i.e., hosting the party where I had sexual relations."

Quinn winced in sympathy. She wanted to ask how anyone could be embarrassed of Rachel but knew the answer was none of her business but also obvious. She could answer the other question though.

"If you're going to get in trouble, don't. We'll tell them when we get to it. But for now, can you please keep things quiet? I don't want anyone to know, not yet."

There were a few moments of silence.

"As you wish," Rachel said. "But does Finn know you're pregnant?"

She nodded, "Yeah. And he also thinks he's the father."

Rachel looked ready to protest but Quinn continued, "No. I'll tell him, I promise. Just, for now, it's easier. After everything settles down, I'll tell him."

"Swear?" Rachel asked. She looked ready to hold out a pinky, but instead Quinn leaned forwards and kissed her cheek. There was the faint twinge of sandalwood there and Quinn lingered for a few seconds. That was the only real promise she could give her and that was that she would try. Rachel beamed at her, big and sweet, and nodded. "Okay. Trust me, I'll help with this."

Quinn nodded, "Okay."

The two minute warning bell rang and only now did she hear trooping feet from the cafeteria. Rachel took the handle of her pink book bag and said, "I'll call you tonight."

Quinn smiled at her. It disappeared once Rachel was out the door. There was very little to smile about in this situation. She was pregnant from Rachel, lying to her boyfriend, and going to be kicked off of the Cheerios. She was going to be homeless and, for all intents and purposes, if not gay, at least bisexual. She balled her hand into a fist and took her book bag off the bed before heading towards class. The late bell rang over her head just as she entered the class. Finn weakly smiled at her and she took the seat next to him.

It was lecture day, thankfully, so she quickly pulled her notebook out and started writing. She watched her slanted handwriting and thought about Rachel's handwriting, loopy and curled.

Finn pushed a note across the table. In his boyish scrawl read, "Why are you smiling?"

She shrugged and tried to make her face blank. It wasn't hard; all she had to think about was his kissing Rachel and something cold slithered around her midsection. She wasn't sure if it was good for her to be so angry and resentful towards others but she felt justified in this action. She'd had Rachel first, hadn't she? She'd been Rachel's friend in elementary school, not Finn. She'd had Rachel two weeks ago in the auditorium and a month ago at the party.

She'd had Rachel for those few minutes in the clinic, when they were connected by the promise of a fetus.

She'd have Rachel forever if she kept the baby.

Glee practice was unusually quiet. Normally Rachel led them all and started arguments but today she spent it biting her lip and glancing at Quinn. Quinn spent it trying not to look at Rachel or Finn, knowing she would either smile or burst into tears. Puck kept giving her sympathetic looks that only made her angry. Finn only looked gassy. Even Mr. Schue, who was normally in his own world, saw the tension.

His professional response was to give them an assignment about feelings.

He sat on top of the desk in the choir room, clapped his hands once and said, "Alright, I know you guys are teenagers. I also know that under those bright, smiling faces, you have a lot of feelings you don't feel comfortable expressing under normal circumstances. But this is Glee and in Glee, we sing about what we feel. So today, everyone's going to the library to look up songs and on Wednesday's meeting, we'll sing."

Seeing they still looked apathetic, he added, "And I want everyone to get out of their comfort zones. Kurt, Rachel, no ballads. Puck, Finn no classic rock. Mercedes, I'd like for you to move out of Motown and other African-American singers. You too, Quinn, Artie, don't think I haven't noticed. Tina, please sing, don't just mouth the words or whisper. Your solo last week was rather… unusual. Santana-" Here he paused because she was glaring at him fiercely. He tried not to look intimidated and failed. "Just, keep doing what you're doing. Brittany, we'd like to hear you sing sometime soon, okay?"

"Alright, Mr. Schue," Brittany mumbled, texting on her phone. Santana looked at her phone and laughed, nudging Brittany gently with her shoulder.

He checked his watch and then hopped off the desk, "As for the new boys, this will be your chance to show us what you have. Let's head to the library. Stay together and no wandering off, please." New boys? She turned and saw the black kid and the Asian boy he was always with talking softly, hovering behind Puck.

Santana muttered something that Brittany responded to in what sounded like Spanish. She wasn't aware that Brittany had ever learned anything beyond English and the most basic of Dutch. Quinn's raised an eyebrow at Santana, who shrugged. Quinn turned around and caught Rachel's eyes. She looked thoughtful, again, biting her full bottom lip in a way that made Quinn uncomfortably aware of how pretty it was. They turned away at the same time as they entered the room.

The library was quiet, mostly because she was fairly certain no one in McKinley actually knew that it existed.

"Hey," Finn said over his shoulder as he searched for a computer desk that wouldn't hurt his knees, "Did you know you can check out stuff from here? Like books and CDs and junk."

Brittany's eyes were wide, "Whoa, really? Like, for free or like a membership?"

He nodded, "For free." Her eyes became larger and he added, "Yeah, I was surprised too."

Puck looked at them, shook his head, and said, "Dude, I may not know what the Hell a prostate does but even I knew that. Shit. What's your GPA?"

They looked at him blankly, before Finn asked, "What's a GPA?"

Brittany turned to Santana, "Is that like a new navigator thing?" Puck turned away and hurried farther up the line until he was between Artie and Toyota, or Ferrari, whatever her name was. She didn't really blame him either.

Santana shook her head and mumbled something in her ear. Brittany's face cleared, "Oh, yeah. One of those things colleges need or whatever, right?"

"Yeah. Yours is a 3.0, don't worry about it, you'll go to school somewhere."

Brittany gave a relieved grin, "Cool. What's yours?"

"A 3.6."

"And yours Q?"

"4.0." It hurt to get out. She had worked hard for those grades and now she was pregnant and it would mean nothing.

Brittany nodded then bit her lip and asked, "What's the highest you can get?"

"A 4.0." Her jaw felt tight. She wasn't sure she could get anything else out.

Brittany only looked cheerful, "Awesome. Maybe we could go to the same college."

"Maybe," Santana smiled.

Mr. Schue gave them a look and they quieted as they searched for songs. She knew automatically that they would look for pop songs but she didn't really want to go down that avenue. She pulled her iPod out and searched through her artists. It was mostly composed of Motown, things her parents had listened to and she had an affinity for. She had a few hip-hop songs and alternative bands but nothing really stuck out to her.

She turned to Santana and tapped the work space in front of her. "Name your top five favorite artists, outside of pop."

Santana scowled, "Bitch. How am I supposed to know?"

"Because they're your favorites."

The darker girl shrugged but screwed her face up in thought, "Alright, um. Amy Winehouse, Duffy, Lil Wayne, Interpol and Stars."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Stars?" It sounded like something Rachel would like on principle alone.

"They're Canadian, but the shit. You'd think they were from a cool country."

Searching for them showed they had an extensive list of songs for her to use, but nothing interested her, especially as a solo performance. A lot of them were filled with feelings but nothing she'd have felt comfortable expressing in front of so many people. Finally she gave up and just printed out the music for that stupid Christina Aguilera song. It was pretty much the default of everything, so she would be fine.

Rachel was at the printer just as she walked up to it, dollar in hand to pay for it. The top of it was open and she was nearly lost inside the mechanics, fiddling with something. When she closed the top and pressed the green button, it whirred to life and printed without Rachel having to pay. Her mouth opened and closed, "How did you do that?" Everyone she knew had tried. Hell, even the AV geeks had tried and it'd never worked.

Rachel turned around and, when she saw it was Quinn, placed a finger over her mouth with a wink. Rachel pressed the link to her music and it printed as well, with no prompting. "I have many talents," Rachel smiled at her. She had dimples in both cheeks; her right one was slightly deeper.

Quinn looked at the paper to keep from smiling back at her. She thought Rachel's were cuter than her own. Maybe the baby would have them. She was still thinking about how Rachel's face, with her strong jaw line contrasting her delicate looks, looked when she smiled on her way to her car when Finn said, "So, you wanna go?"

She frowned at him. She hadn't even known he was walking with her. "Go where?"

"To BreadstiX on Saturday. It's been like a month since we went anywhere together, so I thought we could have a date before I have to get a job." He smiled. He had dimples too, but not the same adorableness of Rachel's.

"Sure," She smiled at him. It would feel nice to go out for once. Maybe before that, she could go to Rachel's house and make up for the past Saturday. It was only Monday though, so she had a ways to go. She was finishing her homework when her mother popped her head in, "Quinn, have you seen the portable house phone? Your father has been looking for it." She rolled her eyes. "The man has two cell phones but he still worries about it."

She bit her lip, "Yeah, here." She handed the phone to her mother, whose eyes widened.

"How long has it been in here? The battery is nearly dead."

Quinn shrugged and turned to look at her homework. Once her mother was out the room, she called Rachel's phone. If she called now, her father couldn't yell at her for speaking to Rachel.

"Shalom, Quinn. I see your phone is in service once more."

She smiled, "Hey. Just thought I'd call you since my dad has the phone."

Rachel's voice took on a more teasing tone, "Oh, I see how it is. You only called me because you to."

Her smile widened and she pushed away from her desk to roll onto her bed. "Exactly. Nice to see you understand how I operate."

Rachel chuckled softly before asking, "How are you feeling? Honestly?"

Quinn bit her lip then sighed, "Tired. Just, all the time. I nap more but I'm so exhausted all the time. I'm going to have to quit the Cheerios soon, aren't I?"

"Yes, but you should be fine for another two or three weeks so long as you don't get dropped unexpectedly. I know it's important to you. You're due for an ultrasound soon, if my research is correct."

She sighed softly, "But how? I'm broke, Finn's broke, so are you and none of our parents are going to pay for it."

"I know. I promised you I would help you take care of our baby, and I intend to do so. I've looked at jobs and there's a prospective one I have an interview for tomorrow at a vegan café, a small one that won't ask questions. They pay nicely and even without Finn's help, we should be able to gain a doctor within two weeks. There's a clinic I was looking at earlier. It's in Akron, they are anonymous, but with interns and professionals and at a much cheaper price. It's about three hundred dollars for each ultrasound. Delivery at a hospital is more expensive, but we can do it."

"That was sweet Rachel," Quinn said softly, "But I didn't mean for you to help like that."

It was quiet on the other line. "Oh," Rachel finally replied. Her voice was flat again, bland. "Well, what did you mean?"

She hadn't actually meant for Rachel to help at all, just said it to make her feel better. If she had her own way, Rachel wouldn't have had a thing to do with it, but she was absolutely determined so she had to come up with a story quickly.

"More like someone I can vent to," Quinn tried to explain, making it up as she went along. "Finn and I are going to take care of the baby but you'll be involved, just like as a…"

Rachel's voice was stiff, cold, "Are you suggesting I act as a surrogate for you and Finn?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that," The blonde rushed to explain. "I just think even Finn is going to notice when the bills magically get paid without his having a job. And it'll be much easier to explain, once everything's in the open -"

"What's this really about, Quinn?" Rachel asked her. "Because I know you aren't suggesting that we tell everyone at the school about one of my differences, otherwise you would have said it. This beating around the bush thing doesn't suit you."

Quinn bit her lip. Time for the big guns: the truth. "I mean, you have a future Rachel. Finn might play football in college, but he'll come back to Lima. I'll make it out and then come back. You can get out of Lima, out of Ohio and never look back."

She laughed shortly. It was a barking sound, "I mean, honestly, you probably will never even pause to think about anyone from here, you'll be so busy singing your heart out each night. You won't remember what it's like in the summer, or the first snowfall, or when a big rainstorm hits or after a hard game when everything smells like-" She bit her lip. Rachel had been excluded from most of the social functions and had probably never gone to a game. "Who would you think about, out of everyone here? No one, right?"

She didn't give Rachel time to respond, "Right."

Her voice was quiet, contemplative almost. "I would think about you. I already do."

"Were you thinking about me when you kissed Finn?" She snarled. She rolled over onto her other side and punched her pillow, wishing it was Finn's face, then Rachel's face, then her face for chasing them towards each other.

"If I answer yes, will you calm down? You're getting riled up and it's-"

"What? Not good for the baby?" She wondered how many times she was going to hear that, if she would ever come to resent those words. She hoped not.

"That, and not good for you. Negative energy is much harder to get rid of than positive energy, or so my charlatan of a therapist says. Damned hippie."

Rachel was trying to make her laugh, she could sense it. She rubbed at her eyes and found she couldn't say anything.

Quinn pressed her nose against her pillow and tried to think of what sandalwood smelled like but her fabric softener kept getting in the way. Rachel was still speaking but it was a quiet, buzzing noise. She smiled a little and pressed the end call button. Rachel called her back three times, but Quinn was already asleep.

The next morning when she looked in her locker the prenatal vitamins were sitting next to Theodore. She threw the pills away and fixed his bowtie. His button eyes seemed to be disapproving. She slammed the locker door in his face. She didn't have Rachel in class that day, so it was much easier to avoid her by hanging out with Finn, who was confused but happy with the attention. He babbled the entire time about video games and football and these new sneakers he was thinking of getting. Finally, towards the end of lunch, he said, "Oh! Forgot to say, I got a job at Ray's Supermarket today. I sent out the thingy yesterday and they called back this morning before I left for school."

She raised her eyebrows, "Well, that was fast." There was no way he had done that by himself.

He gave her a proud grin, "I sent a picture of me in Artie's wheelchair, 'cause Rachel said to, and at first I thought they would have been like, "No way," but they hired me really fast. But, like, I need one now, but Puck said he would steal one from the hospital his mom works at for me."

Apparently, Rachel was still going to help her, and Puck was her accomplice. And she'd known his name was something like that. She hoped it was short for Arthur and not actually Artie.

He took her hand in one of his huge ones and smiled, "See? I told you Glee was a family."

Really? She'd never heard him say anything like that. In fact, all he did was complain about how they practically stalked him and the gay kid seemed to like him, and sing the praises of Mr. Schue and Rachel.

"And I told Mr. Schuester about the baby," He continued. Seeing her darkening face, he hurried, "But he's super cool, he won't tell anyone at all! Plus, his wife is pregnant so our babies would be the same age. They could, like, go on play dates or whatever and be friends."

"Oh, oh!" He was practically shaking with excitement. "They could have matching names! Like Chip and Biff! How cool would that be?"

Finn walked her to her next class, holding her hand, and briefly brushed his hand over her flat stomach before going to his own class. Something squirmed in her stomach unpleasantly but she ignored it in favor of trying to think. Finn was getting attached and Quinn wasn't sure if she would keep the baby or be able to take care of it. This could all blow up in her face and quickly at that. Telling him that the baby was Rachel's was obviously not an option and she wouldn't put Puck in that position. Still, she was in trouble. God, what could she do?

The first course of action, obviously, was to make sure Rachel didn't tell him anything. When he walked by her in the hall, seeing as he didn't look like a nuclear bomb had just gone off in his house, and that Rachel was walking around with a brooding stare, it seemed apparent that Rachel had left it up to her, just as she promised. Puck shadowed her in the halls, but they shared the same class, so it wasn't as if she could say anything. She was just setting up for the history notes when a piece of folded paper was flung her way.

"I know."

She bit her lip and glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. He caught her eyes and mimed moving his hand up and down extremely fast, just below his waist. When she looked up to his mouth, she caught what was either the tail-end was of very, Berry, or cherry. Her ears and cheeks burned. She had an idea of what he was saying and turned hastily around. Luckily, Mr. Backs was still gesturing to the PowerPoint, talking about ancient Greece's accomplishments but a couple of kids were looking their way. She glared at them and they turned hastily. Their attention was further caught by Santana and Brittany coming into the room.

Mr. Backs gave them an exasperated look but they handed the official Cheerio's pass. It was probably about their 'sloppy' uniforms. They each took their seats and she noticed too late the paper still on her desk. Santana reached out and took it, and turned around, brows furrowed, gesturing to the paper. She shrugged and tried to look casual and focused on the lesson. Santana tried to tap her and gain her attention, but each time she raised her hand to ask a question, no matter how mundane. Mr. Backs seemed more enthused now that someone was actually paying attention, and went a little faster.

The downside was that they finished the lesson early and she couldn't ignore Santana any longer. Santana gestured to the note, "What's up with that?"

She shrugged, faking casualness, "It's just Puck. Who knows with him?"

"Then why'd you ignore me? I mean, who gives a fuck about Arthur the great?"

"It's Alexander."

"Whatever. He's dead now."

"And we weren't covering Alexander the Great, we were covering Plato. He's next class."

Santana looked disdainful but when she said, "Nerd," it was almost fond.

They headed to the field. Quinn's heart pounded when she saw Rachel sitting in the bleachers. It appeared that Ms. Sylvester had seen her as well because she turned and used her bullhorn to shout, "Berry! Get your loser stink off of my field!"

Rachel called back, "I'm waiting to be picked up. This is the only place with clean seats."

"Out!"

"My sweater is white!"

"OUT!"

Quinn looked at Santana, who looked back at her. Both of them had wide eyes. Sure Coach Sylvester was sort of crazy, but she'd never yelled like that before. Rachel wasn't that bad, was she?

Rachel, apparently, wasn't an idiot and ran the better part of the football field to the entry way of the locker room. She tried to look for Quinn, who bit her lip and trained her eyes downward. She still hadn't accepted her calls and this would be beyond awkward.

"What's up with you and Berry lately?" Santana asked.

She shrugged, glancing upwards then back down, "Nothing."

"Sexual tension," Brittany said. Her voice was bland, as if it was an everyday observation.

Quinn gave her a horrified look but Santana burst into almost hysterical laughter.

"You're right, B! I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"Maybe because it's not true?" Quinn replied.

Santana ignored her, "You guys have had that vibe since like ninth grade. Weren't you the one that started picking on her, calling her names and whatever?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "That was you." It was a bitter reminder that people did forget that for more than three months she'd avoided Rachel like the plague before succumbing to peer pressure.

"Oh, yeah. Weren't you the one that coated her with the Slushy machine and then threw her in the dumpster the day before they dumped it?"

"I had no idea that happened, but it was probably you."

Santana frowned briefly before smiling brightly. It was weird how the happiest Santana ever was had to involve mischief or Brittany, but Quinn was fairly certain it was more her nature than a cry for help since she'd been that way since daycare.

"Yeah, it was me. I blamed it on you because I figured you wouldn't get in trouble. I'm a fucking genius."

Coach Sylvester blew her whistle and they surged forwards into a run. She worked them hard that day. Not as bad as when Glee club had first started, but there was a noticeable difference from yesterday, according to her burning calves.

She was sweating and exhausted when she went to her car. Puck was standing by his truck and approached when he saw her. When he was close she asked, "What do you want?"

He sighed, "This kills me to say, but I'm Rachel's god brother, so I know that she's got girl bits and boy bits or whatever, and I care about her. I also know that you are who she lost her virginity to, and seeing as you're preggers and locked up tighter than fucking Alcatraz, it's really likely that she's the daddy, unless Jesus came down. And this is likely her only chance to be a daddy or a mommy, so don't count her out."

She tried not to take offense and instead focused on the least embarrassing part of the conversation.

"What do you mean her only chance? She's fifteen!"

"Fourteen," He corrected her. "Her birthday's in December." Great, she was a child molester too, then.

The teenager leaned against her car. "And just think; if you weren't drunk, would you have fucked Rachel knowing she's a visible intersexual? That below her dick there was a pussy? Would you have fucked her knowing she thinks like a girl and feels like a girl, but she's got a dick and pisses standing up?"

Her face turned pink and she bit her lip. Did he have to be so crude? After a moment, she shook her head, "No."

"Right. There are not a lot of people that would like that and there's none of them here unless you count Brittany, and Santana would rather cut off her leg than give that up. And unless she gets really lucky in New York at a few parties, this is likely to be her only child. Everybody else here can fuck up a few times and have a few scares, but this is her only chance. Like, she can't even ask a brother or sister to donate if she gets in a relationship because her parents were too scared it would happen again to try and no one knows where the fuck her bio mom is, so she's screwed on that side too."

She made her face cold and impersonal to keep from crying. It was starting to feel a lot like she didn't have a choice in the matter. "What does that have to do with me?"

He clenched his jaw, "You're a bitch, Fabray. But what I'm trying to say is that she's a much better parent than I would be and she's gonna try her little heart out. Hell, she's a much better person than me or Hudson. That's not fair to that kid if it has Finn as a role model instead of Rachel. He plays video games while she volunteers at the community center with all those bad ass kids, who love the ever-loving shit out of her."

He looked at her face again and sighed, "Just, think about it, alright. The only reason I'm talking to you is because she told me you were gonna let Hudson be the daddy and that's not right. Even if you don't want her, would you let her at least come and visit?"

"I'll think about it. Now leave."

Puck shook his head, "I don't know what she sees in you. Whatever, I tried."

Quinn got into her car, turned the air conditioner on and closed her eyes. What did Rachel see in her? She let out a deep sigh and then screamed when a woman sat up in her front seat.

Terri Schuester's babbling was like being with Coach Sylvester, except her crazy wasn't channeled into anything but adopting babies. The only really good thing she'd done was give her a bottle of prenatal pills. On closer inspection, she saw they were the same kind that Rachel had given her. She knew not to spit in God's face, so she popped two in her mouth and took a swallow of warm water from the water bottle in her Cheerios bag before peeling the label off of it. She couldn't keep them in the car without someone finding them and her mother would just think they were aspirin. Probably. Hopefully.

She pulled her phone out and called Rachel. There was a lot of background noise when Rachel answered, "Quinn?" She sounded hopeful.

"Where are you?" She demanded.

"I'm at the community center. Do you need something? Are you hurt?" There was a brief pause before she yelled, "Lacey, get off of Richard!"

Quinn hung up and placed her head in her hands. It was just her luck for Puck to be right, for Rachel to be just as great as he'd said. She drove home and took a long shower once she got there. She scrubbed her head until her scalp hurt, pulled on her pajamas, and did her homework. She stayed in her bed, phone underneath her pillow until the next morning, ignoring both dinner and her phone calls.

She woke up at four in the morning because of her morning sickness. She wondered who was more likely to hold her hair back, Finn or Rachel, and decided to stop comparing them because that only led to crazy thoughts. But it didn't stop, not even when she got up for school, so on the way to school, she dialed Rachel's phone. It went to voicemail.

"This is Spencer Berry; you may also know me as Rachel Berry. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you at the earliest convenience. Thank you."

There was the beep of the tone and she said, with no preamble, "You have one chance. One. You mess this up and Finn's the father, no ifs, ands, or buts'."

At the end of first period there was a single text, and it was from a number she didn't recognize.

**Thanx fabray**

After a moment she realized it was Puck and texted back.

**Dont let her screw this up.**

**I wont**

Finn looked down at the phone and whispered, "Who are you texting?"

She shook her head, quickly deleting the texts, "Nobody. What song are you singing for glee club?"

He shrugged a little, "I don't know. Normally, Rachel helps me pick, but she's really been into helping me with the baby stuff and I can't do the songs I like, so I'm gonna ask Mr. Schue during lunch."

So that was how Rachel was getting this around Finn. He probably wouldn't even mind if she started paying some of the bills, the moron. "Is that fair? I don't think anyone else is going to him for help."

Finn looked a little surprised, "Really? He said that if I ever needed him, I could just ask." He tried to be smooth, but it was really apparent when he slung his arm over her shoulder. He was hot from his constant jacket, but not the way she liked it. He wasn't as warm as Rachel normally was, and she shrugged from underneath it to say, "Sorry. I haven't been feeling well."

His shoulders slumped, "Oh. Sorry." He lowered his voice, "Um, you have morning sickness, right? That's why you always leave during Glee, right?"

She nodded at him, "Yeah." It was, unintentionally, of course, another notch in Rachel's favor. She'd never asked any dumb questions like this before.

He seemed to hunch down more, and his voice was even lower, "Oh. Is there anything I can do about it?"

"Can you stop your fetus from attacking my stomach or bring me some anti-nausea medicine that won't affect the baby?"

He bit his lip then whispered, "Stop that, baby. Your mommy needs to rest."

There was a sudden surge of nausea so strong, she had to place a hand to her mouth as she rushed to the bathroom. By the time she was actually there, it had passed, but she was breathing a little heavier than before. She took a few moments to rinse her mouth out, just in case, and then, after checking to see that all the stalls were empty, said to her stomach, "I get it. Just give me a few weeks to sort everything out, I promise." Apparently, the baby understood that it was a load of bullshit the same way she did because there was another brief moment of nausea before it calmed into a sort of irritability.

She headed to class again and saw that the other students were whispering. As she walked to the desk, she heard snatches of their conversations. "Bulimia?Pregnant? Sick? Cancer? Dying? Pregnant?" Her face moved into the blank look she'd given Puck and sat next to Finn, who looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry," He mumbled. "I guess the baby doesn't like me much." She didn't say anything and his face fell.

They were quiet for the rest of the class and he didn't walk her to her next class. Math was boring as usual, and she doodled on a sheet of paper after she finished her work. Mr. Gilbert graded work extremely fast and handed her the assignment back. In red it said "29, check last problem. Switch to pencil."

The instant Quinn looked at it she knew she'd missed a decimal. It wouldn't affect her GPA but she always tried to get all the questions right. She rubbed her eyes, balled the paper up, and then continued with her doodle until the bell rang.

Mr. Gilbert stopped her briefly, "Miss Fabray, you normally don't make mistakes like that or come to class late. Is there something bothering you?"

She shook her head, "No, sir. I've just been feeling a bit under the weather lately."

He nodded, "Well, get some rest. Remember, we have that test on polynomials on Monday, and I won't be here Friday."

Quinn nodded, "Yes, sir."

Finn wasn't waiting for her outside the classroom, but Puck and Rachel were. They weren't talking and weren't looking at one another. She wondered if they had more of a relationship outside of school, for Rachel to tell Puck about losing her virginity and for Puck to actually, somewhat, come to the rescue. Taking a glance at them, she saw that they had similar standing positions, with their shoulders pressed against the wall and their arms crossed. Granted, Rachel at least had some books, but Puck just looked bored. Neither of them acknowledged her as they walked behind her to the choir room. She could tell they were following her because of the clack of empty spray paint cans in Puck's book bag and the clatter of wheels from Rachel's pink monstrosity.

Once she was in the choir room, Rachel moved to sit in the front and Puck moved to sit near the back, with Finn, who didn't look at her, as if they hadn't entered at the same time. Quinn took the seat next to Brittany because otherwise Santana would ask her about why the other two teenagers had been behind her. Mr. Schuester came in a little earlier than usual, sat on top of the piano and clapped his hands. The piano guy gave him a dirty look but didn't say anything.

"Who'd like to go first?"

Finn raised his hand and clumsily made his way down. Mr. Schue hopped off the piano and clapped Finn over the shoulder, "Good initiative, Finn. Remember guys, Sectionals is going to be on us soon, so we need to make sure we have our solos, duet, and group number down."

Finn handed the pianist the music, cleared his throat, and said, "I'll be singing Diana by Paul Anka. This is for a special someone."

Quinn dropped her face into her hands and she heard Santana say, "Is he serious with this shit?"

"Santana, language please," Mr. Schuester said. "Go ahead, Finn."

It was the worst two minutes of her life. His voice cracked somewhere in the first half a minute and she could hear Puck say, "This is the single gayest moment of my life." Hummel responded, "I concur." They glanced at each other and laughed.

When she peeked out through her fingers, Rachel had her hands over her mouth and had pressed her face onto Artie's shoulder to keep from laughing, and he had covered his face as well, shoulders shaking. Both of the Asians were recording it on their phones and the Black guy was covering his face as well, although this looked like sympathetic embarrassment rather than just not watching the train wreck. When he finally finished, he beamed at them all. Mr. Schue smiled at him, "Great job, Finn. Who's next? Quinn?"

Quinn tugged the music out of her book bag and handed it to the pianist.

She was midway through the song when she was suddenly hit with a bout of nausea so strong, she had to run to the bathroom. Almost as soon as she was in the stall, someone was behind her with a wet paper towel. She caught a glimpse of the clear polish and short nails and knew it was Rachel. Her hurling stopped briefly and she said huskily, "I hate you. So, so much."

"My advice is to get over it. We're in this together, whether you like it or not."

Quinn wanted to respond but leaned over and vomited instead. When she finished, she panted and placed her head against the cool porcelain of the toilet. Rachel cleaned off her face and handed her a bottle of water from the side of her book bag. It wasn't cold, but it was a relief.

"Why'd it have to be you?" She asked.

Rachel swallowed, licked her lips, and rubbed under her nose before saying, "Your voice was magnificent until the nausea kicked in. I'd like to think of it as the baby encouraging you."

"Why you?"

Rachel was wringing her hands, and they started to flap around when she said her impassioned speech. "I don't have a clue. I would rather you didn't have to go through this at all but I really would it rather be me than say Finn or Noah."

"Why?" Quinn said. She struggled to sit up some and Rachel bent to help her, supporting most of her weight. She jerked out of Rachel's grip once she was up and said, "Why would you rather it be you? Anyone else wouldn't have cared."

Rachel swallowed again. Quinn looked at the slight bobbing of her throat and she wondered what the skin tasted like there. She reached out slowly and took Quinn's hand, lacing their fingers together. It felt like two puzzle pieces in place, like a match.

"Because I would rather you didn't have to go through this at all. I'm probably not going to be the best in this situation, but I'd rather be here with you than standing on the outside looking in."

Quinn bit her lip and pulled Rachel closer to hug her. "I don't hate you," Quinn mumbled. Rachel let out a quiet laugh, "I didn't think you did."

Rachel was soft, yielding, and her hair smelled like watermelon and sandalwood; it was stronger than the whiff on her cheek she'd caught before. Rachel's arms were warm around her waist and she felt a gentle kiss against the underside of her jaw before she nuzzled her nose against Quinn's collarbone. "You smell nice," She murmured. Quinn pressed a kiss of her own to Rachel's hair. It was a little more curled near the roots than it was last time, and she wondered if Rachel had gotten a slushy thrown at her today.

They were still hugging when the Asian girl came in and looked at them, wide-eyed. "U-u-u-u-um, s-s-s-sorry. W-w-w-we want-t-t-t-t-ted t-t-t-t-t-to sssssseei-i-i-i-i-i-if y-y-y-y-you we-"

"It's ok," Rachel finally said to her. She didn't sound irritated, like Quinn would have, just cautious, blank, and slowly pulled herself away from Quinn. The blonde had to resist the urge to whimper and instead placed her mask on quickly. It cracked a little when Rachel tightened the hold she had on her hand and said, "Come, Quinn. We can continue our conversation after Glee."

Rachel made to unravel her fingers but Quinn clung to her hand. It felt like something would come apart and drift away from her if she let go. Rachel's thumb brushed against the back and, after determining that Asian chick wasn't paying them any attention, Quinn lifted their hands and kissed the back of Rachel's hand. Her hand was soft and gentle. Rachel did the exact same thing on the exact same part of her hand. When they were almost at the choir room, she finally let go.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Schuester asked as soon as they entered.

She nodded, "Stomach bug."

He nodded slowly, "Oh, yeah. Finn told me about it. Shouldn't it be over by now?"

Her jaw clenched and Rachel interrupted, "Mr. Schuester, is that really appropriate for this time? Quinn is fine and we can continue with the assignment before we work on a set list for Sectionals." She sounded defensive, almost, but her eyes were dark, angry, just for that brief sentence he'd said before they went blank.

His mouth gaped open for a moment before he plastered on a smile, "Right. How about you sing next, then?"

"Fine."

She didn't sound enthusiastic.

Rachel headed to her book bag as the two other girls headed to their seats. Quinn wasn't even fully comfortable when the brunette strode back over to the pianist and handed him the music. He gave a brief glance at it before saying, "Nice, I can see where you made some changes."

There was a moment of absolute stillness before Rachel's mega-watt grin practically split her face and there was an influx of light.

"Jesus Christ," Santana muttered. "What, does she only have two settings: pissed and happy?"

Quinn bit her lip to stop herself from saying, "No, she's so different from us. She feels all these things and she tries so hard and I keep pushing her away to keep her safe and she keeps coming back, like a fucking yo-yo. And she's about to sing, so shut your face."

What she did say was, "Whatever. You'd think you had a soul all the talk you did about God."

Santana rubbed her chest, "Ow. I should get you declawed, kitty."

"I should get you put down, stray."

They both quieted when the piano guy started to play on the crappy piano, knowing otherwise their next songs would be out of tune and cruddy.

Rachel leaned against the back of the instrument before announcing, "I will be singing the song 'Open Your Eyes' by Andrew Belle. This is an edited version because the original is much more musically inclined."

Quinn bit her lip as she listened to Rachel sing. It was fairly obvious she had taken this assignment seriously, not like her and Finn. Was this how she really felt? Her mouth was starting to hurt so she moved to her thumb as Rachel sang, "_I will try to be all that you need me to be_." There was a very brief pause before the next line was said with such emotion that she felt shivers across her back, "_She'll be a star now, I will follow her lead. She'll be a scar now, I will still let her bleed."_

When Quinn pulled her thumb out of her mouth, there was a deep bite mark with blood leaking from it. She put it back in her mouth and sucked the excess from it, then tucked it into her fist. It was amazing, the feelings Rachel could evoke with just a piano and her voice, the same as all those years ago. She looked down at Rachel, met her eyes, and found she couldn't look away. Even from across a room, Rachel's eyes conveyed all her emotions, her hopes, her dreams. Those were eyes she could lose herself in.

She was still staring at her eyes when Brittany stood and clapped enthusiastically before everyone else started to clap. The song was over, then. Rachel beamed at Brittany, dimples and teeth on full display, before releasing it on Quinn, who found she had to smile back and then cover her face, because God, it was embarrassing to smile that widely at someone when you weren't Rachel 'Painfully Sincere' Berry.

Santana quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged, "She's annoying but good."

"I guess. If you're into that shit."

She reached into her book bag and pulled out a book. Nobody would be as great as Rachel, obviously. Maybe finishing the last chapters of The Hunger Games would be more productive. She was just finishing with Katniss' adventure when Rachel cleared her throat and said, "Good book?"

The choir room was empty and Rachel was sitting next to her. She blushed and closed the book, "It's alright. I actually feel it's a little kiddy, but it was entertaining."

Rachel smiled, "That's all we can hope for."

Things were quiet for a little while, before Rachel said, "I'm going to tell you something that I've been feeling incredibly selfish about since I first found out you were pregnant. I need you to not resent me for it."

"I can't promise that, but I'll try."

"I'm glad that I slept with you because I know if you'd slept with anyone else, things would have been different in all the ways that they shouldn't have. I'd have been chasing after Finn, convinced that he was my one and only, you'd have probably had sex with Noah and have a venereal disease as well as a pregnancy, Noah and Finn would have fallen out and it'd be one of the worst kept secrets in Glee. You'd have been ostracized and hurt and lonely, and I'd have been the same, but here we could be ostracized and hurt together."

She bit her lip, "I'm glad because this means I can at least pretend we have a relationship."

Quinn's breath caught and all she could gasp out was, "Rachel."

Rachel wiped under her eyes and then her nose. She'd been rubbing under there so frequently now, that the skin was pink and actually looked irritated. She lifted her hand to rub again but Quinn pulled it down, tilted her head a little, and kissed the area gently. It was rough under her mouth, but it was part of Rachel so she didn't move for a few seconds. Rachel stilled and grinned at her afterwards.

"Stop rubbing it, you're peeling."

Rachel blinked and tilted her head as her brows furrowed together. She looked like a confused puppy. "I've been rubbing under my nose?"

"Yes. You do it all the time, like when you're thinking. You must have been doing it throughout Glee."

Rachel touched under her nose, felt the peeling skin and pulled her hand back.

"Sorry."

Quinn shook her head, "Its fine. I just don't want you hurting yourself."

She placed the book in her book bag.

Rachel wanted a relationship, but Quinn couldn't give her that, couldn't even contemplate giving up the minor status that Finn would keep her with once she was pregnant. Rachel had talked about being ostracized and hurt together, but Quinn couldn't do that. She was too much of her father for that; she would drag Rachel into the pit full of miserable feelings with her and never let her see day again. All she could give her was what she'd already had, what was used and soon wouldn't even be her own anymore: her body.

She knew Rachel, knew the perfect way to get her in bed would also be the simplest; some pretty words, even if they weren't her own. Quinn then pulled a much smaller book out and handed it to Rachel as she said, eyes partially closed, "Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again. How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running until they forget that they are horses." It was a gay oriented book; Rachel would know what she meant, even if Quinn didn't all the time.

Rachel's eyes looked like twin stars, with such brilliance that it was impossible to look at her head on and her mouth was a perfect little 'O' of such a beautiful, blooming pinkness that Quinn couldn't finish, that she found herself holding onto Rachel's cheeks and kissing her so that her bottom lip was between Quinn's. Rachel dropped the book as she made a little noise, adjusted her position and placed one hand on Quinn's hip and slid the other into her hair, pulling the scrunchie for her hair out so that it hung downwards. She scratched with her short nails on Quinn's scalp and Quinn nearly jumped, before parting and moving to straddle Rachel's lap. Quinn opened her mouth and Rachel's tongue darted in. she tasted like vanilla and almonds. It felt like fireworks and bonfires were sprouting up everywhere; like they had found the eye of a storm and couldn't move, wouldn't budge, as everything went to Hell around them.

It felt perfect, like this was the last great thing that they could do, that there was an urgency that they continued to feed to one another with each sound and quiver and shake. Her hands were trembling as she unbuttoned Rachel's sweater to touch some of her perfect, soft brown skin. It was hot, like touching an electric blanket, and she had to part to breathe more fully in her mouth. Rachel nipped at her throat then placed the flat of her tongue to it and drew back to blow cold air. Quinn squirmed, moaning, "Oh, God."

Rachel moved her head back, and her pupils were blown while the ring was a perfect molten color, almost orange, like deep honey, and her mouth was a bruised red as she asked, "Are you alright?"

Quinn didn't answer, just drew Rachel mouth back to her neck and bucked her hips as Rachel sucked another part of her neck and somehow placed her hands under her top so that her nails were digging into her lower back. When she moved her mouth, she ran her nails up and down her back. Quinn pushed her head away gently and made quick work of her sweater so that the light blue Oxford shirt was on display.

"What's with you and buttons?" Quinn muttered and hurriedly undid that as well so her bra was visible. Her mouth watered; Rachel's breasts were perfectly sized for her hands and she ran her thumbs over the prominent nipples. Rachel's hips jerked and her eyes screwed shut, even as she pulled her closer. Her penis was making a tent in her skirt and Quinn was so wet it was embarrassing.

One of Rachel's hands drifted to the front and cupped her left breast. Quinn moaned. "Take off my shirt," She panted. Rachel unzipped it and threw it to the side and then her bra without asking. She dropped her head and sucked one of Quinn's nipples. Quinn couldn't even moan, could only let her mouth drop open. When Rachel nipped at it, like she had her neck, Quinn groaned and pushed herself away to undo her skirt. She managed to glance at Rachel and there was a new gush of wetness at the sight of Rachel.

Her hair was messy and her face and chest pink-tinged. Her mouth looked bigger, fuller, and pink from her sucking. The discarded shirt and bra drew her attention downwards and her eyes widened. The bulge she'd felt looked indecent, almost pornographic, really. She stepped closer to Rachel and said, voice gravelly, "Unzip your skirt and push down your underwear."

The brunette did as asked hurriedly, nearly tripping over herself, and then stood uncertainly. She looked unfairly young and virginal, even if her penis was leaving little clear trails of liquid on her defined belly, drifting down into the depressed valley of her navel, but when she bit her lip and looked up at her through her long, black lashes Quinn stepped closer and kissed her again. Rachel placed her discarded clothes on the chair then moved her hands to Quinn's hips and sat on the chair again, spreading her legs. Quinn climbed on top, placed her hands on Rachel's shoulders, and gasped as she sat on Rachel's penis.

Rachel's thighs were trembling and Quinn bit at her collar bone, noting that she tasted like sour apples sprinkled with salt, before hissing as she dragged herself upwards and then down, again and again. Gradually, the uncomfortable feeling passed until she was filled with pleasure and Rachel would thrust upwards as much as possible while she went down. The chair started to squeak when they sped up and Rachel bent her head to take her left nipple into her mouth and flicked the other with her hand. She switched after a few minutes, and after a while, she moved her head and blew on the nipple, Quinn clutched at Rachel's long hair and let herself fall over the edge.

When she opened her eyes again, Rachel was still thrusting into her, leaving her with tiny aftershocks before she felt another source of liquid trickle into her, almost a minute later. Rachel was gasping harshly into her ear, eyes shut, as she shook before stopping. Quinn kissed her eyebrows and then her slick forehead. The locks on her forehead and temple were curling from the humidity and she played with them.

It took a few more minutes before Quinn got off of Rachel and helped her stand up. They looked down at their sweaty, fluid covered bodies before Rachel asked, "Would we be able to make it to the locker rooms?"

Quinn thought, "If we run."

They looked at one another, grinned, and grabbed all of their things before rushing to the locker room. The only people left would be the Cheerios and the football team, and they were on the field, thankfully, and they washed quickly before jogging to Quinn's car, dry and clean. They were still giggling and Rachel managed to wheeze out, "Never in the choir room again. I'll never be able to look at that chair again."

Quinn didn't protest that there would be no next time, just pouted, "I'm the one that has to sit there."

They stood on opposite sides of the car and Quinn asked, "Do you have a way home?"

"Today is a Wednesday, so I normally walk."

Quinn raised her eyebrows because Rachel looked like she was about to fall over before she said, "Get in. You've had enough of a work out for today."

Rachel smiled sweetly and sat in the front seat. The book she'd given her was still clasped in her hands. She hadn't even seen her pick it up in the choir room.

She bit her lip and then began to speak, "I found it over the summer, in this book store in Columbus, when I stayed with my sister for a few days. I read it on the way back and I planned to read it again yesterday, but class was actually interesting. I've written in it and there's some high lighting from the previous owners, but it's very readable."

Rachel looked touched and kissed her hand before placing it on top of Quinn's as they were in traffic. "My house is 68 Grant road," Rachel said.

Quinn wasn't familiar with the house, but she knew the area. It was middle-class, in the very middle, where people paid their bills on time and they had grass for their kids and grandkids and they weren't in debt up to their eyes, but their waists, sometimes just their knees. Her family was a higher status, but maybe her father wouldn't disapprove too much if Rachel came over as her friend every once and a while.

When she glanced at her at a stop sign, Rachel was reading already, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth and her eyes narrowed in concentration. The ends of her hair were just drying and looked impossibly soft, and in the light from the window, were a wheat color. She didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, until they pulled up in front of Rachel's house. It was a little larger than the house she'd seen before but likely only one other room and a basement. There weren't any cars in front, but there was the bike she'd seen before, leaning against the garage. It looked like it'd been run over multiple times and the spokes were bent beyond repair.

Rachel saw where she was looking and her shoulders slumped a little before straightening too much as she said, "You should see the other guy." It fell flat as her voice was deadpan. Obviously, it wasn't meant in a joking manner. She wondered if Rachel and Puck had ever gotten into serious trouble before, if they really had gone after whoever had done that to her bike.

Quinn's voice was quiet, "Does this happen often?"

Rachel bit her lip, obviously fighting about whether to say the truth or not, took a couple of extra seconds by tucking her hair behind her ear, but nodded, "Yes." Quinn almost didn't hear because she was focused on how cute Rachel's ear was and how the little diamond stud glimmered in the light.

She smiled winningly, with such confidence that Quinn almost believed it was real. The thought was snatched out of her head as Rachel moved her head and kissed her again.

"You'll get the book tomorrow," She said, before leaving the car.

Quinn watched her unlock the door and only drove off when the brunette waved and stepped inside. She drove home, thinking of the broken bike and Rachel's breasts, and was around the corner from her home when she realized Rachel really was Jewish. She was still laughing when she entered the house and realized her mother was on the couch. It died in her throat and she had to clear it twice to speak.

"Hi, mom."

Her mother smiled a little, "Hello, Quinn. You're coach called today and said you weren't at practice."

She moved from foot to foot. Truth be told, she'd forgotten completely about Cheerios practice. The lie came easily, "I was at Glee, and the captain wanted to talk to me a bit more." She tried to think of what Rachel had told her and said, "She said I had talent but that I needed to practice my breath control and scales more, so I did it with her."

Judy's smile grew a little. Her mother had wanted her to go into something musical, if she recalled correctly, as she was much less likely to be physically disfigured at a piano or violin, but Quinn had always been more physical, so cheerleading it was.

"That's nice. What's the name of this captain?"

She wanted to say Rachel's name but knew that it would be the worst thing she could do, knew she'd be too soft and aching, and instead suddenly remembered the Black girl's name, "Mercedes Jones."

"She's Protestant?"

It was one of the first questions her mother always asked, right after her father's, "Better not be some rag head or dirty Jew."

"Yes, I believe so."

Her mother frowned a little, "I haven't seen her at our church."

Quinn shrugged, "I think she's Baptist, I don't really remember."

Seeing her mother's distasteful look, she said, "Better than Lutherans." Her mother thought Lutherans were the scum of the Earth, just barely above Satan himself.

Her face cleared and her smile was back, "Well, I suppose you're right, Quinn. Would you like a snack? I found this delightful recipe for something called vegan cookies. They have a much lower fat and calorie intake than the normal ones. You almost can't tell."

The operative word, as it turned out, was almost. If she'd eaten them without her mother saying anything, she wouldn't have been able to tell. Now, she was trying hard not to taste the difference, but she could just hear the little voice in the back of her head listing what was different. Quinn only finished one before pushing the plate away and saying, "I think I'll head to my room now. I've got a lot of homework."

Her mother smiled, "I'll pack some up for you tomorrow, then."

She was already partially up the stairs but called down, "Thanks, mom."

She buried herself in the books, writing until her hand ached and she massaged it before going downstairs for something to drink. Judy wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so she took a banana off of the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of water before heading back upstairs. She finished up her homework just before her cell phone rang. She picked it up and smiled at seeing it was Rachel.

"Hi," Quinn said, putting her homework in her book bag.

Rachel spoke, "Shalom, yafah."

"Yafah?"

"It means 'beautiful.' If you dislike it, I could call you nesichah, which is princess."

She laughed a little, felt a soft flush crawl up and abandoned her book bag to lay on her bed, "Either is fine, Rachel. Although I have the feeling you're trying to get me to speak Hebrew."

"One word at a time, yafah," Rachel said. "Speaking of words, I was quite pleased with that book you gave me."

"You finished and did all your homework?" Quinn asked. She wouldn't have taken long with the book, it was just over sixty pages, but there would definitely have been a larger amount of time before Rachel called.

"Well, yes. I admit, it was a struggle to only read it twice but calculus seemed more important."

She sat up, frowning at the phone. Jesus, only read it twice. And for her to have completed all her homework, how fast did she work? She asked, "Rachel, what kind of classes are you taking?"

Rachel rattled off a list of classes and at each name Quinn felt a little more surprise. The only two classes she had with Rachel were also the only two classes she had in their grade group. The rest were twelfth grade classes, honors and AP.

"How'd you get into those classes?"

"My fathers sent me to a private middle school which had a program were you could get high school credits early. I finished two years that way. The only ones they didn't offer were PE and my English requisites."

Quinn bit her lip, "Well then how aren't you number one?"

"I had a 'B' in my ninth grade English class because of a project."

"What was it?"

"I had to make a family tree of my mother and father. When I told the teacher I had two gay dads and that we'd never done a DNA test to find out which father was my biological father, she told me to do both then. It was a ten generation project, and one of my father's is African-American, so we could only go back four before we got to the slave ship. I received an F, which put my grade at a high B."

So a lucky coincidence had given her the edge over Rachel. The thought was less comforting than she'd have otherwise thought.

"Quinn, you're being awfully quiet. Are you alright? Is your stomach hurting?"

She shook her head and then realized that Rachel couldn't see it, "No, just thinking." She smiled suddenly and said, "The baby's going to be smart then." There, that was a plus. If it was Puck or Finn, she'd have had to worry about them passing on their genes but now she was at least reassured that her genes wouldn't have to work doubly hard.

"I hope he or she looks like you, though."

Quinn frowned again and asked, "Why? You're gorgeous." She sucked on her top lip because God, how embarrassing to say that. Rachel was beautiful but she never said that to anyone, let alone another girl.

Rachel laughed. It was cold, scoffing, and bitter. "Are we talking about the same girl, Quinn? I get picked on all the time for my face and, and my hands and… just, everything about me. At least if the baby looked like you, that ridicule wouldn't happen and I could just pretend to be the unfortunate looking partner, like other people do. Our baby would be gorgeous, if he or she looked like you."

Quinn swallowed, "You're beautiful. I'm sorry I ever picked on you, but you need to know that there is no one that's more beautiful to me than you."

"There's no need to spare my feelings Quinn. I know I'm not conventional looking, but there's no need to lie."

Her voice sounded more desperate, almost pleading now. "I'm not lying. You're beautiful, Rachel."

She sighed. It was like static through the phone, like giving up, like letting everyone win. "Quinn. Tell me the truth. I know it's only my penis that you like." She sounded sad, desperate and Quinn couldn't take it anymore.

"No, it's not!" She yelled. "I like all of you! I like the way you're dimples only show up when you smile like no one's looking, and how your eyes are the warmest brown I've ever seen. I like your hair when it's soft and curly, and when you straighten it, and when it's brown and how it's this light color in the light. I like your hands and-."

She took a deep breath and softened her voice. "I like your jaw line and how when you get mad or scared, you straighten your shoulders and clench your teeth. I like how when you're nervous, you rub under your nose and how you always know what to say, even when you don't. I like when you sing and how put effort into everything."

Rachel didn't yell back. She only took a deep breath and said, "Then why didn't you ever respond? Why didn't you just say you didn't want a relationship with me?"

Quinn bit her lip. Time for the truth. "Because I don't want to lie to you anymore. I want you to love me, I want to love you, I do want a relationship, but I don't deserve you, Rachel. I'm not going to make you the other woman in my life while I parade around with Finn. You deserve better than me and better than him. You need someone who will love you openly, who won't let someone else pretend to be the parent of their baby."

Rachel was quiet but then said, "What if I don't care?"

Quinn hesitated.

"Well, one of us has to have some standards."

Rachel huffed a little, but she sounded curious. "What if I just want you, any way I can have you? What if I just want to love you and our baby, and damn the consequences?"

Quinn swallowed. "We'll figure something out."

"Do you promise?"

Quinn didn't hesitate, not this time. "I swear."

Rachel was quiet for a little while before she said, "I got the job. I'm going to have to quit Glee for the most part, though, with these prospective hours. I intend to go to competitions, but mainly as someone in the background."

"That's good." It was. Without Rachel, it was extremely unlikely that Glee would place well enough in competition to keep going and it would leave her off of Ms. Sylvester's radar completely until she rejoined the Cheerios after she had the baby. "I think Finn is working too, but his hours aren't so bad."

As if summoned, she heard the beep of an incoming call. She pulled the phone away and sighed. It was Finn. She put it back to her ear and said, "I'll call you back, Rachel, Finn is on the other line."

"Sure."

She switched over and said, "Hello?"

"Hey, Quinn. I was just calling to see if you would mind rescheduling our date? I found out that I work on Saturday. Maybe Friday night instead? "

Quinn bit her lip. She'd forgotten about going out with him, "That's fine."

Finn let out a relieved sigh, "Thanks. I only found out on Monday."

"It's fine, Finn," She repeated herself again. Today was Wednesday and he's seen her during the day.

"Ok, well I gotta do my homework."

"Finn, it's passed six o'clock. You haven't done any of it?"

"Well, I've done the work sheet for the science class while I was waiting for Puck, but nothing else."

"Finn, you need to do your homework. How are you supposed to get a better job or go to college if you're just barely passing high school?"

"Quinn, get off my back, I'm doing the best I can. I don't see you getting a job."

She closed her eyes, praying for strength. "I'm pregnant. The things I can do physically are going to be extremely limited in a few months and no one's going to hire me if they're worried I'm going to have the baby on someone's shoes at any moment. Besides, too much stress might cause a miscarriage."

"Oh. I didn't think about that. Um. Well, who were you talking to earlier?"

She bit her lip and decided that there was no problem telling the truth. "I was talking to Rachel, from the Glee club."

He tried to sound casual but she could hear the jealousy and confusion his voice. "I didn't know you two were friends. Didn't you call her a bunch of names?"

Quinn winced, and thought about the kiss the two had shared and the furious sex that she and Rachel had engaged in earlier in the choir room. Was it really cheating when they had feelings for the same girl?

She fought to tone down her words and instead said, "She's alright. I guess I've gotten used to her now." That was one way to describe it.

He cleared his throat, "Oh. Well, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah, Finn. See you tomorrow."

"Ok. Um, I love you," He said. He almost sounded sincere. She smiled; it was nice to know someone did love her. It wasn't anything like Rachel's love, nothing like the luminosity in her eyes and the softness of her skin, but Finn was sweet in his own way and meant it. She remembered the first time he'd told her that and how he'd shrunk down and given her a boyish smile after it.

"I love you too," She said. Just not like how I love Rachel. She waited until he hung up and then switched over to Rachel's call. She was humming something, and Quinn waited to hear if she would sing but she only hummed.

"Rachel?" She called.

"Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry, I began to make my bed and almost completely forgot you were there."

Quinn smiled, "I'm that unimportant?"

"You're very important, but cleanliness is next to godliness. Speaking of Godliness, what religion are we raising the baby in?"

She closed her eyes. Things were moving fast again, so fast. She wasn't ready to discuss that and said so.

"That's fine, Quinn. We have approximately thirty-two more weeks and once you see the beauty of Hanukah, you'll agree to raise him or her in a dual faith home."

That was a strike of good luck. She could at least pretend that Rachel was her friend, if she were Protestant. "What other religion do you practice?"

"We're Lutheran."

Quinn winced. There went her chances of finally getting a break. She opened her mouth again to speak, but someone knocked on the door and her mother poked her head in, "Dinner in ten minutes, Quinn. Wash your hands and get off that phone."

She responded, "Okay, Mom." When her mother left, the blonde said, "I have dinner now, so I guess we'll talk later."

Rachel sounded a little muffled, "That's fine. See you tomorrow, Quinn."

She smiled again, "Shalom, Rachel." She ended the call on Rachel's laughter.

Quinn was distracted throughout dinner but neither of her parents said anything about her mental state, although her mother glanced at her stomach and made a disapproving sound. Quinn had to resist the sudden bout of paranoia because there was no way that her mother knew when she was six weeks along. The girls that saw her every day in the locker room couldn't even tell, although that might have been because most of them were still on that all-liquid diet and could barely tell what up and down were.

After dinner she took a bath and put her pajamas on to curl up under her sheets and read. She found her attention straying after a few chapters and finally gave up to check her MySpace. There were fifteen new friend requests, thirteen from boys at her school she didn't know, one from Artie, and one from Brittany. She'd already added Brittany, but it was likely she'd locked herself out of her account again, so she added Brittany and Artie. She looked on Rachel's page and smiled at the sight of the new music video, only minutes old. It was pretty obvious she'd just gotten out of the shower; her hair was curling around her face and she was dressed in a tank-top and a pair of lounge pants. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a guitar on her lap.

Her mouth fell open once Rachel started to sing. It was the same song from Glee but if she'd thought she was being emotional before, now it was a totally different type. She sounded desperate and haunting, like she really had lost everything. She started crying almost half-way through and she replayed the video again and again, just to hear her. When she looked at the time, she realized she'd spent almost two hours listening to the song. She clicked the refresh button and she rubbed her eyes when she realized she'd listened to Rachel's video fifty-three times.

She closed the window and shut down her laptop. Quinn put it to the side and turned the lamp off to snuggle under the covers.

During school the next day she looked to find Rachel was speaking with Mr. Schuester. Mr. Schuester looked hurt, devastated really and he placed a hand on her shoulder. Quinn wasn't sure if she was going to crumble or hug him, but all she did was bring her books closer to her chest and turn. When she saw Quinn, her eyes practically glowed in pleasure, that delicious golden color again, but all she did was give a discreet nod before she moved past her to the next hall. Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant.

Quinn followed her, dodging through the crowds of people before she saw Rachel approach a taller brunette and tap her on the shoulder. Their conversation was short, perhaps only a minute, but the taller brunette bent down and hugged Rachel so tightly that it looked like they would merge. There was a relieved look on Rachel's face but nothing suggested that it was sexual or romantic. Still, Quinn found herself hoping that the other girl would get off of Rachel or loosen her hold or _something_, she was practically clinging. Like a baby ape. A baby ape with a really charming smile, and a cute pixie cut that showed off her neck, and really grey eyes, the kind that were sometimes blue and sometimes green, with ridiculously nice facial structure, but a baby ape nonetheless. A baby ape that was making Rachel smile.

Quinn shoved past the rest of the students to go to her class. She was mid-way there when she realized that it was her lunch break and doubled back to the cafeteria. Santana took one glance at her and asked, "What did Finnept do now?"

Quinn shook her head and slammed her lunch box on the table before taking everything out with controlled motions. When Brittany sat down, she handed her the cookies and the juice box. Brittany grinned, "Thanks, Q!"

Quinn took a bite of her sandwich and wished she hadn't. She absolutely despised tuna and dropped it back in, only for Brittany to take it out and eat it.

She looked at Santana, who covered Brittany's ears and said, "She's been on this wasteful food thing. Apparently, one in five Americans is suffering from hunger, while the other three quarters are fat as Hell. I think it's a load of shit, but whatever, she, Jones and the endangered white rhino are trying to make up for it." By rhino, she meant Lauren Zizes.

"I can still hear you," Brittany pouted.

"I know; I just like your ears. They're really warm."

"No, your hands are just cold."

Santana pulled her hands back and held out a hand for Quinn, who sighed, but touched Santana's hand briefly before jerking back, "Your hands are cold."

She scowled and started to rub her hands together, "Fuck both of you. Hard."

Quinn laughed and felt the normalcy settle in her chest. This was better; normal, perfect. No talk about Rachel, or babies or relationships and daddies. Just her and her friends.

Finn waved at her from across the cafeteria and she wiggled her fingers back at him. He gave her a goofy grin and she smiled back. She felt a little guilty when she saw the bright green sweater to the side and then saw it move farther away. Only two people would wear something that disturbing: Artie and Rachel, and considering that Artie was already being pushed into the trash can, it could only be Rachel.

Quinn picked at her little salad before pushing it away. She wasn't sure she could stomach anything else. Brittany looked between the two of them with a conflicted face before asking, "Neither of you are eating today?"

Santana shook her head, "I won't be the flyer if I don't lose another pound by practice today, so I should be down by now."

Quinn slumped a little, "I'm just not hungry. Don't worry, I'll have an extra helping at dinner." Brittany looked a little skeptical, but nodded anyways. She nibbled on a few carrots then felt the sudden urge to pee and got up to go to the restroom. Santana trailed afterwards and seemed surprised that she actually used it.

As it turned out, it wasn't a lie. Dinner was only chicken and mashed potatoes, but she felt like she was starving and left nothing but scraps on the two plates. Her father had laughed at the sight and when her mother pursed her lips to say something only told her, "Its fine, Judy. She's going to throw it all up anyways, remember?"

Her mother nodded stiffly, but turned to the kitchen in order to wash the dishes. Quinn tried not to take offense. She had never been really overweight, just a few pounds in her early elementary school years, but her bone structure was slightly different from Frannie's, so she always looked like she weighed more. Quinn and her father shared a piece of cake, like they had when she was younger, and he gave her a glass of milk with just a touch of honey before ruffling her hair. She wondered what had come over him, to be so carefree and gentle with her now, and decided to leave it alone. Maybe it would transfer over when she told him she was pregnant. She almost snorted in disbelief at her own thought. When she reached her room, she turned on her laptop and decided to start off simple by going to Google and typing in 'pregnancy.' She sighed when she saw all the links, but started to open the links that looked promising. She didn't get very far before she went to the bathroom.

The next day she was somewhat pleased to see that Rachel was in the bathroom during lunch when she exited a stall. There were two other girls, but the instant they saw her they left quickly. She washed her hands, singing the ABC song under her breath, when Rachel spoke.

"Was that really necessary?" Rachel asked. Her voice was quiet and she was washing her cardigan in the sink. It was orange with blue stains on it. The sleeves of her oxford were rolled up to the crook of her elbow and the white looked good against her skin, even with the tiny blue dots, rather than making her seem washed out and faded, like it did Quinn.

Quinn shrugged, "I didn't tell them to leave." She looked down at the sink and asked, "Who was it?" It was only out of a morbid sense of curiosity. For the most part she had very little control over the Neanderthals on the sports teams, unless it was football and only if they liked Finn, which was unlikely. Santana was much more threatening, either through pure intimidation and physical violence or withholding sexual favors.

"Azimio Adams," She responded. Nothing Quinn could do, then. She watched the brunette continue to scrub before reaching out and grasping her shoulder. "Rachel, it's not going to come out. Just leave it."

Rachel's shoulders slumped and she mumbled, "I just bought this last weekend. I was going to announce to Glee that I would be stepping down temporarily and I thought it would make a nice, lasting impression." Rachel balled it up and stuffed it into the small trash can. It took up so much space that the lid didn't close.

From what little she could see, the sweater would be better off in the trash but she only said, "It'll be okay." Rachel still looked dejected so she added, "I'll take you to get one on Saturday."

Rather than jump at the thought, like she'd thought, Rachel looked at her with cautious eyes. "Is this going to be like last time? I don't want to make you upset and then you don't go again."

Quinn bit her lips but nodded. "Swear. Promise. You can even come to my house so I don't have an excuse." Rachel wouldn't, though. She believed in Quinn like that, even when Quinn hadn't given her a real reason. She wondered if that made them both stupid.

Rachel gave a tiny, hopeful smile and said, "I'm going to hug you now."

She was warmer, somehow, without the sweater and her hair smelled like watermelon shampoo. Quinn pressed a kiss to her slightly damp locks when they parted and Rachel stood on the tips of her toes to give her a very chaste kiss on the mouth. It felt like a prayer. She walked next to Rachel part of the way to her class. It was on the other side of the hall, of course, but every time she looked to the left and saw Rachel looking at her, she had to smile. They went down two separate halls but they had to cross each other to get to the one they needed to. Rachel had a pleased, small smile and gave her a wink but gave no indication otherwise that she'd seen Quinn.

She tried not to feel hurt. It was her own fault, of course, because if she told the truth, she could always have Rachel. Well, maybe not always, but definitely for the rest of the pregnancy and maybe for eighteen years. She wondered if she was having a boy or a girl, then ignored it in favor of heading to class.

Quinn caught a glimpse of Rachel as she was leaving the bathroom, wearing another of her Oxford's, this one light blue, long black pants for once and black sneakers. Glee was undeniably boring without her. No one but Mercedes and Kurt really noticed she was gone but all they did was say something about solos. Puck seemed too enthralled at the look of the other girl to see that his god-sister wasn't there. The girl was named Casey Richards and pretty good, sort of a folksy singer, which meant Rachel would still have to go to Sectionals if they needed someone to sing a ballad besides Mercedes. Puck immediately started to flirt, but she looked almost conflicted and dodged some of his attempts. He didn't give up, pulling out some lame pick-up lines before she said, "Aren't you Rachel's god brother? Shouldn't you talk to her about that?"

Things got quiet and everyone turned to Puck.

He only shrugged, "Why? No big deal, it is not like you two dated or anything. I mean, who didn't have a crush on Ray?"

Casey looked a little disappointed that it hadn't worked but Quinn's jaw clenched. She wasn't even dating Rachel and she didn't want anyone to say anything like that at all about her. Kurt and Mercedes whispered to each other and she could hear a few words thrown around more than a few times. Bisexual. Lesbian. Slut. She moved from clenching her teeth to biting the inside of her cheek to keep from getting upset and getting into their faces. Mr. Schue finally stopped them and they practiced some for Sectionals. As it turned out, Quinn had the female lead. She'd tried to nail it, like Rachel probably had in her sleep, but she ran out when her stomach rebelled. Rachel had held her hair back when she was vomiting and now she felt spoiled. It was obvious Finn would stand around hopelessly and looked to see if someone would follow her.

He was just starting to leave the room when she entered. He looked awkward and placed one of his large hands on her back, "Are you ok?"

She nodded and lied easily, "Fine." He walked her back to the choir room, where Mr. Schue and the other students looked worried.

"You still have that stomach bug, Quinn?" Mr. Schue asked. She nodded and wished Rachel was there to distract him again. The Asian girl whispered to her, "A-a-a-a-are yo-o-o-o-ou ok?"

It took Quinn a moment to remember her name before she said, "Yeah, I'm fine, Tina. Bad lunch. Thanks for asking." Not really. If Tina was starting to notice the frequency of it, something would have to give. She'd be gaining weight soon and it was hard to be anorexic and fat.

Tina nodded but turned to look at Mr. Schuester. Quinn did actually try to focus, but she felt her phone vibrate in the front pocket of her book bag. The blonde smiled because she knew exactly who it was.

**I've been at this job approximately fifteen minutes and I'm bored out of my mind. I hope glee is doing better in my absence.**

Quinn smiled at her phone and immediately texted back.

**No. This new girl isn't as good as you.**

**Of course not, Quinn. Talent like mine comes once in a century.**

**What about Barbra Streisand? Isn't she the most talented ever?**

**Barbra's talent comes once in a lifetime. Completely different from my own.**

**I'm going to have to watch her n now, aren't i?**

**Yes, although which movie will be up for debate.**

Quinn bit her lip in thought.

**Which is your favorite?**

**I am partial to Funny Girl, but we should have The Way We Were if you'd like something a little more romantic.**

She smiled when she thought of something. **We could watch both. **It would give them more time together.

**If you have most of the day to dedicate to it, then yes.**

Santana tapped her shoulder and she looked up to see Mr. Schuester's disapproving eyes. "I know this is only a club, but would every one please pay attention. Since I treat everyone with respect, I'd like for everyone to treat me as such."

Quinn pretended to look chastised and hid it in the palm of her hand. As soon as he turned, she texted Rachel again.

**Even when you aren't here, Mr. Schue is ruining lives. Can't text you anymore, sorry.**

**Of course he would. I'll talk to you later.**

**Have fun at work.**

**Hahaha.**

There wasn't a large amount of choreography she could do that didn't result in her getting overly dizzy and her balance was off, as it had been for days. Even the Cheerios didn't have this many damned twirls. The Asian guy had to catch her three times before Mr. Schue recommended she sit down and practice at home. "Brittany will help, I'm sure. Right, Brittany?"

She gave him a vague hand gesture that might have been a thumbs up but might also have been a shadow puppet, never turning from Santana.

"Brittany?" He asked, a little more insistent.

"Yeah, Mr. Schue, I gots this," Brittany grinned. She sounded so much like Santana that everyone started to laugh and Santana bent her head to ruffle her hair. When practice was over, they headed to Cheerios practice. It was really just tightening of the routine, so Miss Sylvester wasn't there long and Quinn dismissed them shortly after. When she switched out her books, she found the little poetry book, and slipped it into the front of her book bag.

Brittany got into the car with her and they drove to Quinn's house. Quinn went upstairs and changed into more appropriate clothing, taking the moment to use the bathroom again. They pushed most of the lighter furniture out of the way in the living room, because it had more space, and collaborated on the couch. Brittany taught her the steps acapella, not even humming under her breath, her blue eyes narrowed in focus. Dancing was really the only thing Brittany took seriously, she mused, as she took the dizzying step slowly.

She was just putting the entire dance sequence into one when Brittany said, "You are pregnant." She sounded sure, but a little sad as well.

"Wha-"

"You're pregnant," She said. She was biting her lip and her brows were furrowed. "You could have told me, then. I mean, it's only me and Santana."

Quinn took a deep breath, "I didn't want it to be true, is why. I'm sorry I lied to you, but the baby has to be a secret so I don't get kicked out."

"You could stay with me," The taller girl suggested.

"You have enough trouble without me there too, Brit. I don't even know if I'm keeping the baby."

Brittany didn't say anything else about it, so Quinn started the dance again. Brittany just corrected her steps again the next time she was wrong. It was only after she did the dance three times in a row with no issues, did Brittany leave. She stretched her long body and said, "We should put the stuff back, you've got it. There was only one dance, anyways"

Quinn nodded and they set to work again. The couch was the easiest part but they couldn't remember where, exactly, the coffee table had gone. Was it dead in the center, closer to the TV or closer to the couch? They tried all three, worrying about Judy's response, when Quinn remembered it went between the loveseat and the sofa, then tried to see if it was closer or farther away again. They finally settled on the center, because there was no way to go wrong with that.

She was walking Brittany out when she asked, "Is it Finn's?"

Quinn shook her head, "No."

"Is it Puck's?"

"No."

Brittany sighed in relief. "Okay. The baby might not be stupid, then."

Quinn laughed, watched her get into Santana's car, and headed upstairs for a nap. She was curled up tightly, snoring heavily, when her mother closed the door behind herself. The snap of it startled her awake and she rubbed at her eyes, mouth dry and spit stale. "Mom?" She croaked out.

"Sorry, Quinnie, I'm just getting the laundry. Make sure you finish your homework, okay?" Judy pulled the hamper out as Quinn swung herself out of the bed and to her book bag. Only her biology class had homework, so she quickly answered the questions and turned to her laptop afterwards. She had to see what week seven was supposed to be like. Beyond the nausea and frequent urination, she wasn't experiencing much. Then she recalled Rachel sucking on her breasts, and pinched herself, just to see if she was more sensitive. Quinn squeaked and ticked that box off as well. Bloating was expected soon, and Cheerios was starting to look more and more dangerous. She was the captain, at the top of the pyramid, and also the most envied. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been dropped deliberately, but this was more than just her.

She bit her lip and headed downstairs. Her mother was digging around in the fridge and she said, "Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," She said. Her voice was muffled, then she pulled back, a cabbage and a few carrots in her hands. "Ask away, Quinnie the Pooh."

Quinn rolled her eyes at the nickname and said, "What if I quit the Cheerios?"

Her mother frowned. "Why would you quit? I thought you loved cheerleading. You've wanted to do it since you were little."

She leaned against the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. "Yeah, but I want to go to college more. It's harder for me to finish my work when Coach Sylvester is pulling us out of class to make us run laps."

"I thought she stopped that?" Her mother was bent over the carrots, peeling them with the flat of her knife in even strokes.

"It's an example. But, you see what I mean?"

Judy hummed, as the pile of shavings grew larger. "You'll have to sell your father, though. I take it you're staying in that little singing club? What is it, joy?"

"Glee, mom."

Judy made a sound. "Yes, yes. Finn's in it and the football team, right? How is he keeping up with school?"

Quinn grimaced. Finn was pulling in too many C's and D's to stay afloat. "Not good. He might not be up for academic eligibility next quarter."

"You aren't tutoring him?" Her mother asked. She sounded disappointed, a little.

"He doesn't want me to. I guess it's embarrassing, or something." Puck and Brittany sure didn't seem to have any issues going up to Santana for help.

Her mother rolled her eyes, "Well, that's dumb of him. Your father may be proud, but he was never prideful enough to fail." Her mother peeled the first few leaves off of the cabbage and then started to cut it into chunks.

"If he's spending so much time on the football team and with glee, how is he doing in Glee? I've seen the football team, so there can't be much practice in that."

Quinn gave a short laugh and said, "I'm not sure in Glee. It's not really a competitive thing until later. I mean, I guess he sounds a little better but he's not as good as some of the other guys."

Judy pursed her mouth, "I suppose that your leader must see something in him."

Quinn shrugged, "I guess."

"Perhaps it's the same thing you see in him," Judy smiled.

Quinn muttered, "I hope not," then laughed at her mother's scandalized face. "I'm joking, mom. Mr. Schuester's probably seen more of him than I have."

"Out!" Her mother laughed.

Quinn couldn't even look ashamed, as she laughed going up the stairs. It was just before six, so she texted Rachel.

**What's up?**

The text took a couple of minutes to come in.

**The college crowd finally came in so I'm working. How are you?**

**Tired. I'm turning in my uniform on Monday, if I can convince my dad.**

**And if you can't?**

**Then I'll have to quit anyways. **She hesitated for a moment then sent,** I told Brittany I was pregnant.**

**Did it go over well? Did she hurt your feelings?**

Quinn chuckled a little. It was almost as if Rachel didn't know Brittany. She stopped laughing when she realized that Rachel _didn't_ know Brittany. She knew of Cheerio Brittany, the one that called her names and insulted her clothes and attitude, but not the cheerful, caring girl that she knew.

**No. But I bet if she did you'd kick her in the shin.**

**I will ignore that jibe at my height and instead reply, undoubtedly. I'm glad you have a confidant though.**

**Me too. I'm just wondering how soon until Santana and the whole world knows.**

**If it helps you feel better, go ahead, just don't dwell. I'm here if you need me.**

Quinn smiled. **I know.**

She was waiting for a response when the phone chirped to show that Finn had sent a message.

**Gt comin 4 our date 7.**

She sighed a little. She'd only have an hour or so to get ready. Why'd he have to text her so late? Rachel wouldn't have done anything like this at all. She took a deep breath and said to herself, quietly, "You will not compare them, you will not compare them. You will go out and have fun with Finn tonight. You will see what will happen tomorrow with Rachel. But you will not compare them."

Finally calmed, she texted him back.

**Ok.**


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: T for first two, M later on

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 7 –

In the month since their last date, Quinn had somehow forgotten how boring dating Finn was. She knew his mother didn't go out much, and that no one had taught him to be adventurous besides movies, but she was certain there was more in a RomCom than taking his date out to the nearest restaurant, ordering something heavy and onion-filled for himself and giving her his puppy-dog eyes when it came to dessert. Her lack of response to most of his conversation should have alerted him that she was bored. Whatever. It was better than being by herself on a Friday night.

After dinner, he drove them about fifteen minutes out of town to one of the corn fields, where it was empty of people and the sky was heavily studded with stars. All she could see were the corn fields, showing up almost black with the lack of sunlight and a single pale yellow light from a small house. The sky wasn't pitch black, like they always said in movies, but a deep midnight blue and the stars were silver and blue pin-pricks. He helped her out and onto the hood of the car before climbing up after her. They stared upwards for a while, just breathing in the humid air of the last hints of summer before he said, "You know the Lion King taught me that stars are just souls looking down on us."

She nibbled at the skin on the inside of her cheek, not wanting to really say anything to him. "Uh-huh. That's cool."

"Yeah, I remember when Puck first let me watch it with him. I mean, the part where Simba's dad dies is really sad, but I think it's awesome when he like, brings back awesomeness to the pride."

She glanced at the earnest look on his face and wondered what it felt like for two little boys to find out that their dads weren't the only ones missing. Or even Rachel, having one too many dads according to Lima, and missing a mother, seeing that people had one mom and one dad, even according to animals. Damn, she was never letting her kid see that movie. Mulan all the way.

"That's nice, Finn." Quinn hated to break up the moment and said, "You know, the stars are actually elements and other things pushed together, not souls, right?"

He blinked in surprise, and then frowned. "I told Puck I was right."

She blinked as well. "What?"

"I told Puck that stars were elements and rock and other junk all mixed up, not souls, but he didn't believe me. People are always saying he's smarter, so I believed him."

Great. Finn was the smart one in that friendship. Maybe raising a baby with him would be the smart thing to do, if Puck was going to be a part of raising a baby with Rachel. Then again, they were best friends. It was probably smart to just become used to him, then.

"Who taught you that?" She asked, and then winced. It was easy for her to lose control of her decorum around Finn because he let her get away with it. It was one thing for her to soften and be truthful, like with Rachel, but another entirely when all she did was belittle and act cruel to him and for him to never call her out on it.

He chose not to call her out again and said, "There was this kid in my elementary school that taught me. He was short with a ton of hair, like really curly and messy, and he had huge eyes. He was always wearing these weird clothes, like flower sweaters and dress shoes and stuff." He laughed, "He looked like a hippie deer."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Are you serious? That was Rachel."

He laughed again, louder, "Nice one Quinn. That was a boy, he had this weird name. Something from the city, I think. Samuel, Steven, Sebastian-"

She interrupted, "Spencer?"

He nodded, "Yeah that was it. How'd you know?"

"That's Rachel's first name."

He shook his head, "Her first name is Barbra. No, wait that's her surname." Finn paused, "That's the one in the middle one, right? The surname, because there's an 's' in the middle."

"The one in the middle is your middle name. The surname is your last name."

"Oh." He frowned. "That's dumb. They should have a class on this stuff instead of math."

The class was called a book with less pictures then words. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from saying that.

Then he grinned. "You know, that explains why he came in a dress one day and my mom had to explain transsexuals. I mean, I still don't really get it, because like, who'd want to be a girl all the time but I don't think it's that big a deal. Do you?"

Quinn didn't have a response for him ready. She'd never had to think about another person beside herself, really, and it was proving to be difficult, to imagine herself in that position. But his face was trusting, and she thought of Rachel's big eyes, trusting her, so she said, without really thinking, "I don't care, so long as he or she is happy and healthy."

He grinned, "Good." Then, very gently, he reached out and placed one of his hands on her shoulder before pulling her closer for a kiss. His mouth was overwhelming and she wished that she could have given him a tic-tac or two before this. She counted to seventy in her head before parting from him, taking fresh air in as delicately as possible while still rejoicing in it. He pulled her back again, and they kissed like that, for what felt like forever. She preferred kissing Rachel, even if they'd only kissed a handful of times. She knew, at least, that kissing wasn't just holding your breath forever.

She parted for the last time because her mouth was starting to go numb, and not in a good way. Four months of dating should have taught him something at the least.

He moved his hand to the nape of her neck and shifted his head to kiss her neck. She pressed against his chest to stop him and said, "That's enough, Finn."

Finn pouted, "Quinn, c'mon. We haven't been out in a long time and we, like, never kiss or go out anymore."

She said firmly, "Stop. I'm tired, take me home."

His shoulders slumped and he jumped off the car, showing that there was a dark stain on the back of his yellow hoodie. She took a deep breath and held it as she climbed down and looked at the back of her yellow cardigan. Sure enough, there was a dark stain on it as well. Apparently, he didn't have the foresight to wash the car before letting her get on it.

When the tall boy pulled up to her house, she kissed his cheek briefly and said, "I had a good time tonight, Finn." It was only sort of a lie.

He beamed, gave her a short kiss on the mouth and said, "Me too."

She climbed out and then walked to her front door. Finn pulled off as she entered her house. PBS was on TV, playing jazz music, and her parents were both asleep on the couch. The gin bottle didn't appear to be too empty, Quinn saw as she kissed them both on their foreheads as she headed upstairs.

Quinn took a shower, washed her hair, changed into her pajamas and sighed, softly, as she got underneath the covers. Her body thrummed with energy, fast-paced and bold, but she wanted to sleep, wanted to just shut her mind off and head to sleep. It felt like the night was moving slowly around her so she took her phone and then hesitated. Texting Finn so soon seemed like a chore, she was sure that Rachel had gone to work today, and she was unsure who else to bother.

She put her phone back down, put it on the charger, and curled onto her side, cradling her lower belly. That was something she could, do, she realized, and got up for her laptop. She booted it up and immediately started looking up stuff about fetuses. Turned out she wasn't at the fetus stage yet, but an embryo. It was a nicer name anyways. Fetus just sounded… alien.

She came away an hour later, body calmer but she felt like her baby was a little more defined now. He or she was the size of the tip of a pen, was going to develop organs soon, was a living being connected to her. And Rachel, she reminded herself. And possibly Finn. Finn was Carole's life; she would be disappointed, but would ultimately let her stay there with them, would take care of her and the baby. But Rachel was the baby's… other parent. Rachel was the one quitting her after school activities to work, was risking alienating her parents with this. And no one would even believe them about this, not really. They'd think they were kids playing house, not women determined to have this baby.

"You are not a mistake," She murmured lowly. "You are a wonderful little being."

She turned her laptop off and got underneath her covers, and curled around her most abused, softest pillow. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, evening them out slowly so that when she did go to sleep, she didn't even notice. If she dreamed, she didn't remember, and it felt like she'd blinked so that suddenly it was early Saturday morning. She reached for her phone, first off, and saw a new message from Rachel.

You can come over anytime you want. Before eleven, and you get the full Berry family breakfast.

Quinn smiled softly and disentangled herself from her sheets. It was only nine or so, so she killed some time by cleaning her room then picking out the appropriate outfit for meeting two men she was likely to be living with in two or three months. She'd picked out a summer dress because it wasn't too cold out this early in the morning, a white cardigan, and then decided on a pair of ballet flats rather than her wedges because it was only breakfast. She set them up by her computer chair and texted Rachel, **I'll be there soon.**

Her parents had moved from the couch, so she wrote them a short note and taped it to the fridge on her way out. Quinn knew the general direction but she'd forgotten, mostly, distracted by the sight of Rachel's hair and the tip of her tongue and the bike with the bent spokes. The paper was still in the front of her book bag, so she texted Rachel when she stopped at the closest stop sign. **Where's your house again?**

**68 Grant Road. Go straight down Ashmont, turn left at Gardens Court, right onto Queens Blvd. and it's the second street to the left. **

**Okay, thanks.**

**You're welcome.**

The next text came almost immediately afterwards.

**Please tell me you aren't texting and driving, Quinn.**

**I'm not texting and driving.**

**Good. Now tell me the truth.**

**I'm at a stop sign and texting.**

**Stop. I'll see you soon. You're in for a surprise.**

Quinn smiled a little before navigating through the town to Rachel's house. It only took maybe a ten minute drive to pull up to the house. Without the girl here to distract her, she really could see that it was a lovely home. There were some nice shrubs in the front of the well-manicured lawn, white shutters and the door was white as well. The house was a soft, muted grey so that it looked soothing. The drive way was empty, but she still parked on the curb just in case and texted Rachel again. I'm outside.

The door opened before she was even on the pathway. Surprisingly, it was Puck standing in the door way, big and burly as always, wearing a pair of shorts and one of his tank-tops. "Hurry the Hell up, Fabray!" He called out. "Rach won't let me eat until you get in."

Quinn deliberately slowed her steps and watched his irritation grow until they were face to face. Then he smirked, "'Sup MILF? Down to fuck?"

She pushed him as he laughed and stepped inside. She was immediately aware of what smelt like heaven; heated fruits, and something that smelled almost like pancakes. It was a unique scent, citrusy, but very pleasant. That must be her surprise. He closed the door behind them and said, "Ray's in the kitchen with my little sister." Seeing her look around he rolled his eyes, "Down the hall, to the right."

She followed his instructions and felt herself blush at the first sight. Rachel was wearing a pair of black booty shorts that rode upwards and she could see pretty much all of her rear. The only thing that tempered the sight was of a little brown-haired girl covering her eyes, balanced precariously on a stool. Her hair was in a pony tail and she was saying, over and over again, "Ew!"

Quinn averted her eyes, cleared her throat at the floor, then focused on the child as she said, "Morning."

The little girl turned to her with big brown eyes, similar in size and shade to Puck's before she waved, "Hi!"

Rachel turned, showing that she had on what appeared to be an overly large Starbucks apron and a tray of muffins that were rapidly deflating. Quinn could see a red t-shirt underneath it. She beamed at Quinn, "Good morning to you as well, Quinn." Her hair was a fantastic mess, just long and curled like all she'd done that morning after getting out of bed was muss it up. Some of the strands were wet, so she knew that she'd taken a shower this morning.

Quinn smiled back shyly and took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

"Quinn, this is Noah's younger sister Hannah. Hannah, this is my fried Quinn."

Hannah gave her a big, dopey grin and Quinn grinned back at her, then they both turned to watch Rachel slide the little deflated muffin thingies onto plates, two for each of them. They'd turned into cups, really, and there were what appeared to be apples, raspberries, and cinnamon in the center. Hannah's was already cut. Rachel, apparently, worked fast.

Hannah dug into hers eagerly but Quinn was fascinated by the sight. "What are they?" She asked.

"It's a German pancake, which is like thin regular pancake batter baked in the oven, but the huge ones tend to go to waste, so I make them in the muffin tins," Rachel explained. She sliced Quinn's into pieces absent-mindedly and then speared one with a chunk of a red-gold apple and two raspberries before holding it in front of her, "Say 'ahh'."

Quinn opened up and then made a little noise at the flavors. The fruits were perfectly tart and the pancake thing had a light, sweet taste. Rachel grinned again and Quinn saw that she had a smudge of flour on the bridge of her nose and another by her eyebrow. Quinn licked her thumb and wiped them both off, Rachel's nose wrinkling when she felt what she was doing.

The blonde chewed and swallowed and asked, "Where are your dads?"

Rachel took a bite of Quinn's breakfast, pushed it into one cheek, and then said, "Abba-leh's store is open, so he's there, and papa should be down soon."

Quinn saw there was a little dimple by the bottom of her mouth, near her chin, then pulled her plate closer, took the fork from Rachel and watched Hannah fit a whole forkful into her mouth. Rachel took the apron off, revealing the Superman logo on the front, and then took the seat by Quinn. Their legs brushed underneath and Quinn's ears reddened when she suddenly realized they were having what seemed like an increasingly intimate breakfast.

Rachel's mouth quirked upwards a little and Quinn turned to Hannah, starting to feel like a bumbling idiot, "What grade are you in, Hannah?"

The brunette swallowed, "First grade."

Quinn nodded sagely, "That's a good grade."

"The best, I'd say," Rachel added solemnly.

Hannah made an agreeing sound before asking, "Rachel, can – I mean, may I have some orange juice?"

Rachel got up and went to the cabinet. She stood on the very tips of her toes but didn't seem able to reach the smaller glasses most people normally used for orange juice. Quinn snuffled out a laugh then got up and reached behind her to get four of them down, two in each hand. Rachel huffed but Quinn saw the very edge of a smile on her face as she poured the juice in the glass.

Hannah gulped some of her juice as Puck entered the room in front of what appeared to be a young bear who barked as soon as it entered. It looked huge, with a gigantic mouth full of teeth. There was a light brown mask across his face, ending at his muzzle. Quinn may or may not have squeaked and hidden behind Rachel. Rachel didn't even look concerned, just said calmly, "Toto, heel."

He immediately sat down and started to pant. He still looked larger than Hannah.

"After we eat, I'll introduce you to Toto," Rachel said, reclaiming her seat. Puck sat on the other side and Quinn took her seat again.

"Introduce us?" Quinn asked.

Rachel stuffed one cheek again and said, "Yes, he's very protective and well-trained. I've had him since I was ten and one of the things I taught him was a proper introduction. If you haven't been introduced he'll bark and be generally irate in your presence."

Quinn nodded. That seemed like something that Rachel would do.

Toto sniffed at her and lifted his lips before going to sit underneath Rachel's seat. She winked at Quinn before scratching Toto behind his ear with one foot. Her toes were painted gold, the blonde noticed absentmindedly before continuing to eat. She was just finished when she heard a man's voice say, "G'morning."

Quinn turned to see that a tall, African-American man stood in the kitchen doorway. He was scratching his stomach through his shirt and came to the group to kiss Rachel's forehead and ruffled Puck's Mohawk before blinking in surprise at seeing Quinn.

"Oh. Good morning, young lady."

Rachel swallowed some of her orange juice and said, "Papa, this is my friend Quinn. Quinn, this is my dad, Dr. Gerard Way."

He grinned, "I know it's hard to believe, but I am older than him. This one keeps me youthful." He ruffled Rachel's curly head. "Besides, I don't have a young, tattooed hunk in my bed, just an old one."

Quinn laughed. "I believe you, sir."

He blinked then smiled impishly. She could see where Rachel got it from.

He stroked the bristles of his beard, "Sir. I like that one. Everyone, call me sir from now on. But you, Miss Quinn, can call me Gerard." He looked at Rachel, "You did good with this one."

Rachel nodded then looked at Quinn with very soft eyes, "I think so too."

Gerard turned to the counter and poured a cup of hot coffee, pulled out three of the German pancake muffins onto a plate, and covered them with the fruit sauce. He took the plate with him into the living room, pausing only to kiss Hannah's head and said, "I'm going to watch the news, alright kids. Toto, come." The dog stood and toddled after him.

Quinn heard the chatter of a news network just before Puck said, "Dude, how'd you get Quinn to come?"

Rachel's fork was still for a moment, "What are you referring to, Noah?"

He rolled his eyes, "Babe, Fabray was totally uninterested in you when I talked to her a little while ago."

She shrugged carefully, sipping at her juice, "Ask her."

"Fabray?"

Quinn said coolly, "Puckerman?"

"What're you doing here, MILF?"

Hannah asked, "What's a MILF?"

Rachel glared at Puck then said, "Nothing to be concerned about. Would you like another one?"

Hannah stared at her plate for a long moment, and then said very seriously, "No."

"Anyway, Fabray, what's up? You invading on my broseph?"

Quinn shook her head, "Rachel invited me, so I came."

He snorted, "Rachel would invite Patches if he took a bath."

"Patches is a highly valued member of our society," Rachel sniffed. "I happen to think he's a very charming individual."

"He pisses in the street," Puck said dryly.

"The library no longer allows him in."

"Because he pissed on the books. And he smells like Hell."

Rachel's mouth tightened, "I'm sure if someone took the time, he'd be doing very well. And some of his stories are very interesting."

Quinn blinked, "Wait, you talk to homeless people?"

Rachel replied, "Why, yes. They're still people Quinn, homeless or not."

"Whatever," Puck interrupted. "So, Fabray, gonna answer me?"

Quinn frowned at him, "What's it matter? I can't change my mind?"

"Not that fast. What, did she go down on you or fuck you or something for that to change?"

Quinn's entire face burned and she stared at her plate. She wasn't sure what Rachel did but it was probably something similar because he said, almost breathlessly, "No fucking way. Rachel, seriously?"

"What?" She snapped.

He snapped back, "What nothing! You fucked Fabray!" He paused, as if it had just hit him, "You fucked her again!"

"What I do with my body is my business, Noah."

"Dude, she's the enemy! At first I tried to be nice to her because she's pregnant with a little Jew, but she's still a raging bitch! Remember the name-calling, the drawings, the slushies, or did they all just magically disappear because she let you get it in?"

Rachel put her fork and knife down carefully, and tucked her hands into fists. "Hannah, please go out front with Uncle Gerard."

The girl did, gingerly getting down and then waiting for Quinn to give her the plate before carefully walking out.

Rachel's voice was soft, but terse, and somehow it was scarier than if she'd have yelled. "Noah, I will not argue with you about this. What I do with Quinn is my fucking business, do you understand that? If I want to have sexual relations with her, I will. If I want to be another parent to this baby, I will. If I choose to forgive her for her actions, I will fucking do it. She is the mother of my child, and I will not abandon her like that."

Quinn wished she wasn't in the room when he replied, whisper soft, "Fuck that! No one's saying you have to abandon shit. I'm the worst person to say this but stop thinking with your dick, alright! You can fucking be a parent and not be involved with her! And you can stop leading her on, Fabray. What is she the backup plan if things with Finn don't work out?"

Quinn blinked hard, "No. She's not. I like Rachel, and she's stepping up to being a parent, even helping Finn to step up."

"But Finn's not the daddy, and you need to tell him. That's not right for either of them."

"One of 'them' is sitting right here and can speak for herself, Noah!" Rachel snarled.

"Alright, then tell me what the fuck you think you're doing? You think she's gonna be there for you forever? You think she's gonna stay with you when something prettier comes along, a little more conventional? You're gonna be the one that goes and does the late night runs to the store, and rubs her feet, and gives her baths, and gives her dick when she wants it, but you're also gonna be the one that she leaves at the first sign of trouble."

Rachel looked at her then looked at him, the coldest look on her face.

"Maybe I like her and want to help, Noah. Maybe I love her, Noah."

"Bullshit. When has love ever gotten anybody anything besides a fucking broken heart and a full ballsac?"

Rachel bit her lip so hard that it paled underneath her perfect front teeth and her arms were shaking. "I think you should leave, Noah. We will have this discussion at a different time when hurtful things will not be said so freely."

He clenched his jaw and nodded, "Fine. See you on Monday, Rachel. Fuck off, Fabray."

Her throat felt like it was closed, but she managed to get out, "Go die in a fire, Puckerman."

He mumbled, "Better than being with you." Louder, he practically yelled, "Hannah! C'mon!"

The girl took a few minutes to come in, stepping carefully again before giving him the dishes. He put them next to Quinn, grabbed Hannah's hand, and said, "See you, Uncle Gerard!"

Rachel's papa's response was inaudible.

Quinn propped her head up on one hand as she watched Rachel gather the plates, rinse them in the sink and wash them, shoulders tense and straight. It took several minutes for them to loosen and all she said was, "Noah meant well, I imagine. Please don't take any of it to heart."

Quinn swallowed again, "I won't." Even if some of it had struck a chord with her, she wouldn't say anything at all because he was not the main person in this relationship. It would be her and Rachel, in the end, and that was all that mattered. Besides, it was all very domestic, in a sick way, in a Lifetime way; them against the world. She couldn't help but imagine them older, living somewhere that wasn't Lima, the sounds of a toddler singing to Barney on T.V. She bit her lip when she realized just what, exactly, she was imagining. She was imagining a future with Rachel, a future with their child and outside of Lima. It was a nice dream, but what did Rachel want?

"Where do you imagine yourself in ten years?" Quinn asked her.

Rachel's brows furrowed and she raised one hand to push a curl behind her ear. Slowly, she said, "That's a hard decision. Ideally, I'll be on Broadway, in love, and successful. However, I would not be opposed to just having a career in the musical field and seeing or hearing our son or daughter every day."

Quinn shook her head. "No, not like that. Just, close your eyes and pretend you're ten years in the future. What are you doing?"

Rachel obediently closed her eyes and said, softly, "Tired, but it's a good tired, and there's a deep buzz in my body from performing. I go to my room and I'm washing off the sweat and grime from a hard performance when my cell phone rings. I answer it and our son or daughter says, 'I'm going to bed now, I just wanted to tell you about my day.' So I listen to them talk, I tell them goodnight, I make kissy noises and then you get on. We talk as I change into my regular clothes. We only stop talking because there's a meet-and-greet and you say, just before I get off, 'I'm so proud of you.'"

The brunette opened her eyes and licked her lips. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Quinn blinked hard. "I don't know. I just –" She paused, and took a deep breath, "It doesn't feel right to be planning things without finding out how you feel about everything. So, we both agree that we're taking care of the baby together?"

Rachel nodded, "Yeah. I intend to be a part of our child's life." She glanced at the door, then took Quinn's hand, and said, "C'mon, let's go upstairs."

Once they were in the hall, Rachel said, "Toto." The dog pattered out and Quinn blanched, seeing that his head almost reached Rachel's waist, and Rachel had a lot of leg to get through. They headed upstairs and Quinn smiled at the little gold star plate on Rachel's door. The actual inside of her room was a lot less bold then she was expecting. She expected bright pink walls, Barbra Streisand on every wall. What she got was soft yellow painted walls, a bed with a sheer red canopy, a shelf with a few stuffed animals, and a book case filled top to bottom with books. There wasn't a dog bed, but Toto immediately went to a group of pillows and laid down with a small grunt. She gravitated towards the book shelf first and was surprised at the amount of classics that Rachel owned. There were at least a hundred books besides those, and she asked, "Have you read all of these?"

Rachel padded over and nodded, "Yes. I acquired most of these during middle school, and it was a very…" She paused, nibbling on the corner of her mouth, a little frown on her face, "It was a very trying time. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Quinn was fairly certain that her middle school experience was different then the daughter of two gay men but didn't say anything.

Instead, she took her cardigan off and slid her shoes off before crawling onto Rachel's bed, through the canopy. Rachel climbed in behind her and wrapped her arms around Quinn from behind, pressing her nose against the nape of her neck, nuzzling gently. Quinn could feel where her forehead naturally fell just above her shoulder blades when she could feel Rachel's toes against the heel of her own feet. She laughed, "You're short."

Rachel made a small sound then pinched at her through her dress, getting mostly fabric, "So? As you might attest, inside this small body lies the spirit of someone at least seven feet in height."

Quinn laughed again, "So you admit to having a Napoleon complex and a seven foot ego?"

"Hardyhar." Rachel let go and Quinn rolled onto her back before sitting up. Rachel sat up and said, "Oh! I almost forgot! Toto, here."

Toto obediently stood up and, at least to Quinn, stepped onto the bed. He didn't really look at Quinn, and instead curled up next to Rachel. She rubbed his ears and said, "Quinn, please place your hand in front of Toto's face."

Quinn did, eyeing his bared mouth.

"Toto, this is my friend. Be nice." His mouth closed and he snuffled his cold nose against her hand. He observed her again, and then licked her hand.

Rachel smiled, "That's it. He's actually very friendly." Toto seemed to agree and rolled onto his back, showing his chest and stomach. Rachel began to rub his chest in broad circles, making him rumble his enjoyment.

Quinn hesitated before petting his head. His fur was thick and coarse, and felt more like hair then the silky fur she was used to. He blinked his big dark eyes slowly, reminding her acutely of a shell-shocked Rachel, like that day in the nurse's office. She looked up to see the girl in question pushing her curls back with both hands. She saw Quinn looking and smiled at her. She blushed a little and said, almost too fast, "Do you still want to go to the mall with me?"

Rachel's face froze, momentarily, and Quinn felt her heart sink. of course Rachel wouldn't go out with her, wouldn't want to be seen with the bully and the girl who'd taken her virginity, or the girl who'd teased her relentlessly with the knowledge that she had the power to let Rachel in the life of their child. God, she was terrible.

She was terrible, but she felt like a blind man seeing the sky for the first time as her face split into a grin. "I'd love to!" She nearly fell from Rachel wrapping her arms around her in such an enthusiastic hug if they'd been standing, Rachel would have likely wrapped her legs around her waist. Quinn smiled back at her, a little more sedate, and Rachel's grin softened until the sweetest smile was being given to her. Quinn's ears heated up as she placed one hand on top of Rachel's and then leaned forwards. Rachel met her halfway and they shared a barely there, chaste kiss. Toto huffed between them and lumbered off the bed, pressing one heavy back paw against Quinn's thigh. She hissed a little, and then squeaked as Rachel bit her ear playfully, nearly on her lap.

Rachel laughed then licked her cheek. Quinn squealed again and rubbed the spit off before throwing herself against the bed, Rachel nearly climbing on top of her. Quinn watched Toto return to his bed of pillows and asked, "What kind of dog is he?"

Rachel slid off of her and then the bed before she replied, "Pyrenean Mastiff mixed with Great Pyrenees. He was destined to be a big ball of egotistic fluff." Seeing her look, Rachel said, "The first is from Spain and the second the border between Spain and France." Quinn laughed.

That explained his dignified approach, and she said so. Rachel's laugh was muffled by her sweater, this one a light blue with little splatters of colors. It went below her waist, covering the barely there skimpy shorts. Her hair was even worse when she pulled her head through, along with a dusting of pink on her cheeks and forehead. Quinn laid on her side, one eye open, and then both opened wide as Rachel took off her shorts and revealed she wasn't wearing underwear.

She bit at the inside of her mouth to keep from saying or doing something, anything that would push Rachel down on the bed and… inconvenience them. Her ears burned more and she turned away for a few seconds before looking again. Much too tempting to ignore, she found. Her behind was a little less tempting when she pulled on a pair of underwear, patterned with the Pokémon from the original show. There went a piece of her childhood. It was further taken by Rachel turning and winking at her before asking, "Jeans or a skirt? I'm undecided today."

Quinn swallowed. "Um." She took a deep breath, and then said, "Jeans. I think you in a skirt might be a little too much for me today."

Rachel smiled at her, a little different from her normal one and headed to her closet. She closed it behind her and Quinn sat up, swinging her legs down. She wished she was lying down again when Rachel stepped out in gray skinny jeans.

The combination of her sweater and jeans should not have gone over well, but she found it did. Or maybe she was just distracted by how endless Rachel's legs looked. The brunette fluffed her hair and said, "I'm going to put on a headband, I really don't feel like doing anything to my hair." She pulled open her closet door a little more to reveal a floor to ceiling mirror.

Quinn barely hid a grimace. Some of her headbands were worse than the sweaters. Rachel opened a drawer and riffled through them before saying, "Ah-ha!" and hauling one out the same color as her sweater. It was ridiculously cute.

She moved to stand in front of her mirror and adjusted it on her head before playing with her curls and taking a tube of ChapStick out of her pocket. Quinn bit her lip and giggled. Rachel finished applying it and said, "I will admit to having a larger than normal mouth. I will also admit to taking extensive care of said mouth. There is nothing worse than a large mouthed individual with chapped lips."

Quinn shook her head. All that talk about mouths made her think of Rachel's on her own so she said, "C'mere." Rachel walked over and just when she was within arm reach, Quinn wrapped her legs around the back of her thighs, fisted one hand into the front of her sweater, and kissed her strongly. Rachel made a small sound and tilted her head for a better angle, placing one hand on the nape of her neck and the other around her waist, pulling her even closer. She wanted to get closer, and she wiggled a little before licking at the seam of her mouth and biting at her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. The ChapStick didn't even taste weird. Rachel made a soft sound, almost needy in a way, and opened up.

Quinn was fairly certain their mouths were supposed to taste the same; they'd eaten the same things this morning. Rachel's mouth tasted sweeter, though, richer in a way. She ran her tongue along the insides of her cheeks and felt rough spots where she'd likely bitten them. She didn't care so long as she could keep kissing Rachel.

Their only warning before Gerard entered the room was that Toto barked three times in a row. Quinn would have ignored it, but Rachel stepped back quickly, unwound her legs, wiped both their mouths with the palm of her hand and sat next to Quinn on the bed, closer to the door, sitting cross legged, nearly on top of the canopy.

Quinn blinked at her, wondering what the Hell was happening, when Rachel said, "And that's why Barbra is better than any actress out there!"

The door opened and Gerard rolled his eyes, "Spencer, please don't bother her about that. I actually like this friend."

Rachel pouted theatrically, "But she doesn't know about Barbra's magnificence!"

"Yes," Her father said. "But look at her face! You've clearly bowled her over since she stepped in this room."

All Quinn could really think was that Rachel was a genius. Not even just a genius, a goddamned genius. This acting deserved an Emmy. She forced herself to nod, "I think you can tell me more later."

The other girl pouted further then said, "Fine. Did you need something Papa?"

Gerard nodded, "Yes." He held up a pair of worn black and white Converse. "These need to be thrown away. I know your abba-leh is absent-minded and just leaving them in the laundry room is enough to keep him happy, but they're falling apart."

Rachel shot to her feet and fought to get out of the netting. "They are not! They're perfectly usable and I love them."

"They're green."

Rachel stuck her lip out, "But I love them. I've had them since my feet stopped growing."

He rolled his eyes, "You mean last year? You're fourteen, not forty."

Quinn asked, curious, "What size are your feet?"

Rachel didn't even glance at her, "A nine and a half or roughly twenty five and a half centimeters."

Seeing Quinn's face, Gerard grinned, "She gets it from me. The height, however-"

Rachel crossed her arms and stomped her foot, which was apparently larger than her actual size, "I will not be talked about!"

"Too bad! I brought you into this world, I can talk shit about you all I want."

The brunette visibly sulked, then muttered, "No respect."

Gerard tossed the sneakers into the room, where they landed near the closet, and crossed his arms as well. "Just for that, I'm dressing Toto up again and putting the pictures on Facebook." The dog in question whined and covered his head with his paws.

Rachel looked exasperated, "How many times do I have to say it? Toto is not a toy! He will not dance at your command."

At the word 'dance' the dog visibly perked up before moving to the middle of the room, pushing himself onto his back paws, and stumbled around, forepaws wind-milling in the air for almost a minute before yawning and letting himself back onto all four of his feet.

Gerard quirked an eyebrow, looked at the dog, then at his daughter and said dryly, "I think you've got it covered, Spence."

Quinn laughed so hard at Rachel's indignant face that she snorted, and hastily covered her mouth, still laughing. Rachel huffed audibly and reached for her shoes. "I see how it is," She pouted. "However, I refuse to let a future enemy conspire with my current enemy, so I am beseeching you, father dearest, to allow us at the mall."

He stroked his chin and asked seriously, "Will there be a hot pretzel for me in this venture?"

Rachel looked thoughtful, "I suppose those terms are agreeable if vegan lasagna is tonight's dish."

He held out one hand, "Deal. Temporary truce." Rachel shook his hand, her own palm getting lost in his hand.

Quinn stood up and let herself out of the canopy. Gerard turned to her and saluted, "You will be my eyes and ears out there, Private Quinn. Please ensure the target does not get out of sight."

She mock saluted back, much to his laughter, and then put on her shoes and sweater. Rachel dragged her out of the room, wrapping one of her arms around one of Quinn's. When they were down the stairs and it didn't seem as if her father was behind them, Quinn took her arm back, then gave Rachel her hand. Rachel glanced at her and Quinn looked back, seeing there was a pleased look on her face, but a different emotion in her eyes, not hesitance or pleasure or confusion, just something that likely couldn't be identified. Maybe if she saw it again, she'd be able to identify it.

They came up to her car and she released Rachel's hand before finding her keys in her purse and unlocking the door. For a moment she thought they'd do this awkward thing where Rachel went to open her door and she went to open Rachel's, but instead Rachel moved to her own and said, "I believe this is your car. It would be prudent for you to actually get in."

She stuck her tongue out at her but got in and started up her car.

"Which mall do you normally go to?" Quinn asked. She had half a tank of gas, so that was plenty to go down to Dayton or up to Toledo and back, at least today. What she didn't expect was for Rachel to actually say the mall in Lima. Most people didn't actually regard it as a mall at all. There were about sixty stalls that they called stores on one floor, and four larger stores, and she'd stepped into three her entire life; the Sears with her grandmother, the J. C. Penney's when she needed a tie for her father – they were basically the same damn store – and Macy's for stuff her mom didn't feel like leaving town for.

"Seriously? That's where you go?" She glanced at Rachel to see if she was joking and nearly swallowed her tongue, she felt so bad. Rachel was slumped in her seat, head angled to face the window and downwards. It wasn't a fake pout because otherwise she'd have stayed facing forwards to make Quinn cave. Even her shoulders were bowed a little, and Quinn had never seen her spine falter at all. The blonde felt like a jerk. Not even a jerk, a world-class prick. Shit, she felt like Santana, that's how low she felt.

"Hey," Quinn said softly. "I'm sorry. I, um, I didn't mean to make fun of you."

Rachel shook her head but didn't say anything, slumping further into the seat. Quinn bit at her bottom lip and they drove silently towards the mall. It was pretty empty, in the parking lot, and Rachel spoke gently, "I understand. I know that most people that we know that are our ages do not like to go to this one, but I find myself much less ridiculed here."

Quinn reached out and took her hand and received a very small smile in response. She leaned over and kissed her mouth gently. Rachel was still, and Quinn thought she would reject her, but then she responded with a little sigh into her mouth. She wrapped her free arm around Rachel's waist and tightened her hand. Rachel squeezed back and when they separated her smile was a little more genuine. They kept their hands together.

The mall was sparsely occupied this early in the day of everyone but old people. Rachel greeted a few of them politely, receiving smiles back. She seemed to know exactly where to go, and led to a little shop just a few doors down from the Old Navy. "Sweaters and You" it proclaimed; the name made Quinn grimace. Rachel dragged her in and immediately set off for what appeared to be the Aran knit section. Quinn shook her head, glad for her freedom. There were only so many sweaters she could see at once. There was a small stack of cardigans, in plain colors, from the corner that caught her eye, and she picked one up, feeling the fabric between her fingers. It wasn't too thick or thin, but the perfect kind. She plucked at the buttons and smiled, seeing they were fastened securely.

"Do you need any help?" A voice said from behind her.

Quinn jumped and turned around. A young, slightly chubby man, maybe in his upper teens or early twenties, was behind her. He wore thick, Buddy Holly glasses, had a half-grown Afro, and a vividly green sweater with a sweater on the side.

She shook her head and said, "No, thank you. I'm just browsing."

He nodded, sucked on his lower lip then said, "Yeah. Figured."

She blushed and they stood awkwardly in front of one another. He stuck his hand out and said, "I'm Dale."

She didn't take his hand, "Quinn."

He shifted, moved a little closer and she put the cardigan down, fingers tight in the fabric. "So, um. How old are you, Quinn?"

Before she could say anything around the vein of 'leave me the hell alone' Rachel called, voice cool and collected, "I'm ready at the register."

He jumped, "Yes! Of course."

Rachel huffed a little and said, "Dale."

He turned around and grinned, "Oh, hey, Spencer. New sweater already?"

She nodded, "Yes." Then, she softened a little, "How's Aunt Clara?"

Dale hopped over the counter in one smooth leap and took the green Aran pullover from her. "Still bugging me, so I guess she's doing great. Uncle Gerry's having a barbecue next week, right?"

"Yeah, if dad will let him. You know how terrible he is at that thing, right?"

He gave her a sunny grin, "That's half the fun of the barbecues, Spencey."

She chuckled, turned a little and said, "Quinn, did you want it?"

Quinn looked at the tightly balled up sweater in her hands and nearly threw it away from her. She shook her head, "No, I was just – just looking."

Rachel frowned a little, "Are you sure? I don't mind getting you one."

Quinn shook her head then said, "Hey! I'm supposed to be treating you."

She approached the register, where Dale rolled his eyes, and took out her wallet. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of a debit card. There was a little post-it that said, in her father's cramped writing 'There's $250 in there. The code is 4526 and its debit.' She swallowed and then swiped and punched in the code. He printed off a little receipt, and she placed it in her wallet as well.

Rachel took the bag and then said, "I'll tell Papa you said 'hi', alright, Dale?"

He gave her a double thumbs up, "Yeah, see you, Rachel!"

The two of them headed out the store and Rachel asked, "Would you like to go somewhere else?"

Quinn thought, "We could kill some time at Macy's or something. I know we still have to get Mr. Way – I mean, Gerard's hot pretzel."

Rachel ducked her head and looked up at her through her long lashes, "I don't mind being seen with you."

Quinn knew what she was saying, without saying it in so many words. I am glad to be with you. I won't mind when you are fat and grumpy and a general disgrace to your community. Even if no one else does, I think you are a wonderful person. Why won't you pick me over him?

She smiled back, "I wouldn't mind being seen with you either."

Rachel beamed at her and they headed to Macy's. Macy's was large enough that it felt only like them and a few of the sales representatives in the entire store. Occasionally, at one of the little walkways, they would pass an older person, but that was it. Somehow, they ended up near the back, at the men's section, and Quinn watched Rachel browse through it casually.

It felt a lot, really, like watching her father go shopping. Her father was fairly tall, so that part wasn't similar, but this part, where she picked up ties that interested her, bright colors and patterns, holding them up to plain shirts, sometimes a soft, somber color, and other times more jovial; this part was her childhood remade. Her WASP, 6'2'' father had been replaced with the likely multi-racial, 5'1'' Jewish girl that she was somewhat but not really dating. Girls looked for their fathers in partners, was the saying. She watched her somewhat partner abandon the men's section and head towards the sweaters like she had a radar for them, and smiled again.

The smile vanished when she passed an aisle and nearly bumped into Hummel.

He blinked down at her, "Oh. I didn't know you came here, Quinn."

She shook her head, "Normally, I don't. I just thought I'd be up for a change of pace."

Hummel quirked an eyebrow in question, "A change of pace in the junior's section?"

Quinn shrugged and walked away from him. Now was not the time to be bothered with Hummel. Rachel was a little ahead of her, almost lost between two rows, and Quinn wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glancing back to see if Hummel was behind them. He wasn't; he was busy holding up the tie and shirt that Rachel had placed together before she left. They exited the Macy's like that and headed for the food court. Quinn bought herself a Sprite, waiting on Rachel to bring the esteemed hot pretzel.

When she did see her, she laughed. Rachel was tossing the pretzel from hand to hand, blowing on each hand before throwing it back over, the bag with her sweater swinging wildly. She looked silly and clownish until she snatched a handful of napkins at the closest vendor and wrapped it up carefully. She held her pink fingers ahead of her, whining a little. Quinn laughed and kissed her left hand, then held the pretzel and kissed her right palm.

Rachel ducked her head a little and they headed for her car. They drove back to Rachel's house. Rachel told her, "You can park in the driveway."

Quinn parked as she was told and they left at the same time. Gerard was on the couch again, they saw, and Rachel dropped it onto his chest, "Here, Papa."

He grinned, "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Yeah, totally," Rachel said sarcastically.

Gerard reached up and tilted her head down before he licked his thumb and wiped under her eye roughly.

She jerked back, "Eww, Papa!" She wiped his spit away harshly and backed away from the couch. He gave a full bodied laugh and said, "Wait, you have to see Toto."

At his name, the dog trotted down the stairs, wearing a pink tutu that looked like it'd been stretched to accommodate his backside and a small tiara on his head. Quinn choked down a laugh at the sight. Toto gave her a baleful look then, huffing, tossed his head so his tiara clattered to the ground. He moved to try to bite off his tutu. Rachel sighed the sigh of the long-suffering and crouched down to help her dog, placing the bag with her sweater by her feet. He whined and licked her cheek. She rubbed his head soothingly, "I know, boy, I know." She pulled it off of his hips and he stepped out, as if they did it all the time. Watching Gerald reach under the couch for a laptop, she figured that they did.

Rachel shook her head at him, "I'm rescuing my dog."

He replied blithely, "Have fun!"

Quinn followed Rachel up the stairs to her room. Toto immediately went to his stack of pillows. Rachel took her pullover off and draped it over her desk chair and took her headband on before putting it back into the drawer from earlier.

She stretched, rocking onto the tips of her toes so Quinn could see her flat, brown stomach. Rachel smiled at her, "Do you still want to watch those Barbra Streisand movies with me?"

Quinn nodded as she took off her cardigan and shoes before getting into the bed. "Which one do you want to watch first?"

Rachel nibbled at her bottom lip briefly, "I think 'The Way We Were' is a good choice. It's a little emotional, I must warn you."

Quinn scoffed, "I'm not a big ball of hormones just yet. I'll be fine, Rachel."

Rachel shrugged and placed the DVD into the player. "If you insist."

Quinn wasn't saying that almost two hours later, sobbing into Rachel's hair as the brunette rubbed her back soothingly.

"I know, I know," Rachel said lowly to her.

"But-but," Quinn sputtered. "But she was the only one that saw him for what he was! He loved her! They were in love! And now they're not!"

Rachel chuckled softly, "I know, baby." They both stilled at the endearment before Rachel started to stutter apologies. "Oh jeez, I'm – I mean, I'm sorry." Rachel shut her eyes, like she was going to get hit.

Quinn took a deep breath but didn't say anything. She wasn't used to nicknames, unless she counted her mother's Quinnie and Quinnie the Pooh'ing. She normally didn't see what the big deal was, but she knew that for a lot of people, names like that meant something. This, though, made her swallow down her excitement. It felt deeply personal, at least to her and she replied, haltingly, "I wouldn't be opposed to being called 'baby' by you. Just, y'know, in private." The first time Rachel said that in public, everyone would know how she felt about Quinn.

She winced. Rachel wouldn't take that lying down. She would rant and rave and be right the entire time. Rachel was the kind of girl who wanted public declarations of love, not the pithy little 'give me times,' wanted the kisses in the hallway, not in empty rooms, public handholding.

Rachel said softly, "You are extremely lucky that I find the forbidden lovers literary trope tremendously romantic." Quinn blinked hard, and then licked her lips. "I know. I promise, it won't be long just, I just need this for now."

Rachel nodded, "I won't deny you that Quinn. You deserve all the happiness you can have."

She pulled her closer, nuzzling underneath her ear, almost to her jaw line. Quinn yawned, feeling herself relax, and didn't even notice when she drifted off into a nap.

Quinn jerked awake and scrambled off the bed at the sound of her cell phone ringtone. She went to her purse and dug through it quickly before answering, voice gravelly, "Hello?"

Her mother's voice was strident, "Where are you?"

She wiped her mouth, "I'm at Brittany's. I wrote a note, it's on the fridge."

"That was this morning! It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon, Quinn Lucille Fabray. Get home, now! First you come home late from a party, then you – you get sick all the time, and now you're out all day without so much as a 'leaving, ma' to your mother."

Quinn sucked in a breath, then let it out soundlessly, "I'm sorry, mom. I'll come home now."

"If you take longer than fifteen minutes, I'll tell your father." Judy hung up and Quinn rubbed the bridge of her nose before she turned around to see that Rachel was sleeping peacefully still. She tip-toed over and kissed her forehead gently. Rachel's long eyelashes fluttered a little before partially opening and she sighed a little, before murmuring, "Are you leaving?"

She smiled at her sleepy face, "Yeah, baby. My mom wants me home."

Rachel's eyes were starting to close, "Kay." Quinn kissed her on her pliant mouth, receiving a soft response, and then backed out from under the canopy. She put on her cardigan, slipped on her shoes again, and took her purse before going downstairs. Gerard wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen, but in a room two doors down, with an open door. It appeared to be his study, with a thick, wooden desk, heavily laden book shelves, some pictures spread around and the same laptop computer open.

He was wearing big, black headphones while he typed and she knocked on the door frame once lightly, then again a little heavier. He pushed his headphones down and smiled at her, "Leaving, Quinn?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir. I just came to say thank you for letting me come over today."

He waved a hand casually, "Oh, don't worry. You're welcome over any time for anything. I mean, even if Spencer's not here, we can listen to some Bruce Springsteen and I can teach you about real music."

She smiled at him, "I'll take you up on that someday, Dr. Way. Well, good bye."

He nodded at her and said, "The door locks automatically, so don't worry about it."

She didn't bother to ask why they had an automatic lock; the answer should have been obvious, "Okay."

She exited the house and moved to her car. Quinn drove home, worried about what, exactly, her mother knew. Judy had called her sick, which, she supposed, would seem true to her, if her daughter was vomiting at any and all hours of the day, and when she wasn't upchucking, was sleeping. She took a deep, fortifying breath when she parked and then left her car. The front door was unlocked and she closed and locked it behind her before calling out, "Mom?"

Her mother raised her head above the couch, "Come here, Quinn."

Quinn approached cautiously and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, "Yes, mom?"

Her mother's hands were folded tightly on her lap as she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"I wrote a note."

"Yes, and that note wasn't accurate. I went by Brittany's house and they said they hadn't seen you all day."

Quinn bit the inside of her lip. "I was hanging out with another friend. I – I didn't think it'd matter much."

Judy took a deep breath, then let it ease out as she reached for Quinn's hands, "Quinn, I know you're growing up, but you still need to tell me when you're coming and going. You've been," She hesitated a moment, "sick a lot, and in your…delicate condition, you need to tell me."

Quinn's eyes widened, "Mom, did you-"

Judy spoke over her, "You're sick, Quinn, but it's temporary. I know there are quite a few clinics that can help."

For a moment, Quinn thought she would either pass out or choke her mother for what she was implying, but instead shook her head. "No, mom. I – I'd rather do this the natural way."

Her mother shook her head mutely and Quinn said, "Mom." She tried again, "Mom, I'm not doing – that. I want this b– "

"Quinn, you're sick. It's okay that you're sick. Just," She swallowed hard, even as a sort of vulnerability gathered in her eyes. "I don't mind, mommy loves you, mommy would help. But your father – your father won't feel the same way."

There was a brief moment when the words didn't seem real, didn't feel comprehensive to Quinn. "Wha-" She started, then they smacked into her chest like a well-thrown brick.

She blinked and stared into glassy, green eyes. Her mother had long eyelashes, vividly dark against her pale skin. Like fresh bruises, almost.

Quinn was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would sob or scream so instead she nodded and turned to the stairs. Her room felt like it was a million miles away and when she finally made it, she collapsed into tears at the door. Her father was going to reject her and her mother would let him. This had only confirmed her fears, what she'd said to Rachel that day in the nurses' office, and she sobbed brokenly into her sweater sleeves. They smelled vaguely of Rachel, which made it even harsher. She wanted someone, she wanted Rachel, but all she had were her tear marks and a puffy face.

She was still sniffling piteously when her phone rang with a text message. At first, Quinn didn't move but the longer it stayed there, the more pathetic she felt. She might have been pathetic but she didn't have to act like it.

The text was from Santana and read **U were w/ Bry 2day?**

She wiped her face again and responded **Yes**.

The reply was a rapid-fire **Y?**

She swallowed the abrupt urge to tell Santana it was her damned business, but instead texted **I felt like it. She's not that bad.**

**Did u hit ur head? Bry sks. Bry's sked since elem. skool.**

She gritted her teeth. **I felt like it. She can be sweet.** She reread her response, and then erased the second sentence. After a moment, she erased the first and typed **She's ok.**

**w.e. just dont let midge bring u dwn.**

She knew, quickly, that Santana was not referring to her mental state. She took a deep breath, like that would help her, and responded **I'm quitting.**

Quinn stared down at her phone as she got up and sat on the edge of her bed. Maybe thirty seconds later, Santana's name appeared on her phone. She answered but before she could even say hello, Santana burst out, "What the fuck is wrong with you? How the fuck do you just – just quit? This is our year you fucking cunt, you asshole, you puta egoísta!"

Quinn responded quietly, "I'm pregnant."

Santana was quiet for a long time before she said, "Shit."

She was quiet, and then repeated, "Shit! I know, Quinn. I was just hoping it was a rumor or one of those hysterical ones those crazy bitches have."

She blinked slowly, "How?"

"Everyone does. The little gay kid, the one that joined for that one game, said he saw you in the baby section of Macy's today, too."

"Juniors," She whispered. "It was the juniors section."

"Are you fucking serious? I'll beat his rumor telling ass until he chokes up rainbows."

She asked softly, "How did you know?"

Santana sucked in a breath. "It's pretty obvious. You're running out of every class fifteen minutes in, you're pissing all the time; you missed a move in practice – both of them. I mean, shit, Schue loves his twirls but not enough to miss them. You haven't bullied anyone into tears lately either."

Quinn shook her head. "How many people know?"

"Me, B, the mouth breathers, maybe some of the Cheerios. Some of the teachers. Did you tell Pyramid Nipples?"

She huffed a little, knowing that Santana had a wide amount of offensive nicknames for just about everyone. "Yes, I did."

"Ok, so Puck and like all the football players."

That was a lot more people then she felt comfortable knowing. She knew, logically, that people would know eventually, and she wasn't very subtle, but things were moving fast, they were so out of her control that she just knew this would blow up in her face. Someone on the football team would eventually ask Finn how many times they'd had sex, he'd tell them the lie she'd bullshitted him, and they'd either laugh in his face or feel sorry enough to him that they'd say the truth.

"Is that why you're hanging out with Berry? To get a feel for how the losers live?"

She nodded, feelings sick to her stomach, "Yeah, actually. I mean, she's the lowest there is, so if I can get used to her I can get used to anyone."

Santana laughed a little before Quinn heard some background noise. The brunette said, "Hey, B's here, so I'm going to have to go. Just, y'know, call us if something happens."

"Thanks, Santana. I know."

There was a very quiet moment before Santana said, "Keep your chin up, Hannibal."

Before Quinn could say anything, she hung up. She rubbed at her eyes with the flats of her palms. She didn't call anyone else, just texted Rachel home and took a nice, long shower. She put on her pajamas, despite the early hour, and curled up in her bed for a nap.

Several hours later, her mother knocked on her door with a tray of food. Quinn yawned and sat up, allowing her mother to place the tray on her lap. "Thanks, mom," She said lowly. Judy kissed her forehead shortly before leaving. Quinn picked at her rice and chicken but forced herself to eat, then pushed it to the side. She checked her phone and Rachel had responded **Ok. How are you?**

**I'm okay. Found out my dad wnt lt me sty when he fnds out.**

**Want to talk about it?**

**No. I just want to be by myself.**

She reread her sentence and nearly hit herself. Like that wasn't misleading. She wanted to be by herself physically, but it felt really good to know that Rachel was with about her emotionally.

**Of course. I'll be here when you need me.**

Quinn swallowed and reread the line. Of course. For a lot of people, that could mean different things. It could mean 'of course that's what you want from me.' Or 'of course that's all I'm good for.' Or even 'of course, that's how you feel about me and I'll take that.' But for Rachel, all it meant was 'of course, I understand you must feel that way. I'll still be here.'

Quinn told herself to stop over analyzing and to just swoon like a normal girl when the girl they liked more or less said, 'I'll wait for you.' Damn that gorgeous girl, really; she was spoiling her for others. She looked to her side and found that her tray and bowl were still there. She got up and took them downstairs. Her mother wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, so she didn't go looking for her, just put the dishes in the sink, and then headed back to her room. She'd managed to formulate a reply, so she hurriedly typed before Rachel could think she was deliberately ignoring her.

**I don't really want to talk face to face, but I want communication. Is that okay?**

There was a five minute pause that felt like eternity before Quinn's phone beeped with her incoming text. **That is perfectly understandable. I, too, find the anomaly of texting and the internet comforting. It gives one time to think without being potentially offensive or hurtful. Would this be a nice time to segue into the weather?**

Quinn laughed softly. **Yes. Feels like an Indian summer.**

**Haven't felt one quite this warm since '78.**

**You weren't born in 1978.**

**I can, however, imagine.**

**lol of course you can**

**An active imagination is part of a healthy childhood and part of my career.**

**Is that all you think about?**

**Nope. I think about you, too.**

**Think about me how?**

There was another pause before the next one came in and Quinn nearly tripped out of her bed, scrambling to sit upright.** Is this going to be one of those phone sex things? Because I have some material already present in the event of this.**

Quinn read the previous texts, trying to see how Rachel had gotten to that point, and laughed at it. They were innocuous, of course, but she still couldn't help laughing. **No. Just go to sleep, dirty girl.**

**If you insist. I forgot to mention earlier, though, that I get paid next week and I'm sure Finn does too. We can pool together so you can have an appointment next week.**

The next text came in rapidly. **If that's what you'd like.**

Quinn looked down at her tummy, licked her lips, and typed **That's fine. Thank you.**

**You don't ever have to thank me for anything, Quinn. I'm just doing what is right.**

She smiled softly and typed, **Go to bed, Rachel.**

**I resent the implication that my bed time is 8:30.**

Quinn laughed again**. lol Then when is it?**

**Honestly?**

Rachel really had one? Quinn smiled fondly. **Yes**.

**9:00pm on weeknights, 10:00 on weekends. I cheat by texting you.**

She'd had sex with someone who had a bed time. Something in that sentence was wrong, it seemed to her. She decided to ignore it for now. **When does your job close, then?**

**I'm on the second to last shift, so for me it's 8, plenty of time to get home. It closes at 12, however.**

**You work at a café, right?**

**Yes. Sorry, Quinn, it is family movie night. I believe this one is The Fast and the Furious.**

Quinn smirked.** isn't that kind of extreme for someone with a bedtime?**

Rachel only texted back **Hardyharhar**.

Quinn smiled softly to herself. For a Saturday, it wasn't so bad.

Sunday was, as always, about church. It would have passed unremarkably, really, if Pastor Kenneth did not go into homosexuality. Most of the time, he only included them in the extensive list of sinners that made up the material world. Today, they were the main focus of his sermon.

He stood up from behind his pulpit, bowed his head and said, "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts together be always acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen." They murmured amen after him. His glasses gleamed in the light as he lifted his head again. "My brothers and sisters, today, I'm going to speak to you on the recent homosexual agenda."

There was a gentle murmur from the congregation, and Quinn swallowed dryly. Surprisingly, she hadn't really thought about her sexuality. Somehow, the precedence had been making sure that no one knew she was pregnant and ensuring that she had a way for paying for the medical bills and that her child had a second parent. Her own soul had, besides her nightly prayers, taken a bit of a backseat.

"Let's have a quick survey. How many of you know a homosexual? Personally? How many of you have interacted with these sinners, these lost children of God?"

More than half the congregation raised their hands. Quinn, hesitantly, raised her hand as well, once she saw both her parents raise them.

He nodded, "I thought so. Well then, how many of us can claim we'd thought they weren't so bad, that they were just a little misguided, that all they needed was a helping hand?"

They raised their hands again, Quinn a little less hesitantly this time.

"How many of you know that you cannot save them by yourself?"

Everyone raised their hands.

Rev. Kenneth nodded, "Good. Now, one more question. This one is rhetorical, no need to raise your hands. Is homosexuality genetic or an evil force that plays mind games with people?"

The church was still, quiet, and he repeated himself, louder and more sure, "Is homosexuality genetic or an evil force that plays mind games with people?"

He took the mic off the stand, shook his robe out a little and said, "I am well aware that this subject is charged and controversial - and it has become so even in Christian circles. I have not sought support for my thoughts from the Word of God. Rather, the Word of God has given me the thoughts I will present here today. I will bring up the subject of homosexuality, but also the relationship to Christian homosexuals."

Rev. Kenneth stared at them, then stepped around the podium and asked, "For many of us, the question is - Is it a sign of the times and can you be delivered from it?"

He shook his head, "From the beginning God created humans as man and woman. We begin in Genesis 1:27-28: "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."

Rev. Kenneth expounded his points, carefully and with a soft voice, gathering the occasional amen. She knew some reverends used emotions, but Rev. Kenneth always used this method instead; he always used logic that no one could argue with, or wanted to argue with him over.

"Legalizing domestic partnerships between men and men, between woman and woman, it will simply create disasters - beyond comparison!"

He took a deep breath.

"We are already seeing the results of this. We see it through the spread of AIDS. Certainly," He added, "Not all AIDS-infected individuals are homosexuals, but it came into existence because of this in the past. For that matter, innocent people can become infected with this disease, without having had anything to do with what lies behind it, as far as homosexuality is concerned. Nevertheless it will create a big disaster, and the authorities and the social services are already experiencing that you cannot control this. They experience the difficulty of it. However, not only that: TV recently reported about the increasing number of men and women infected with various venereal diseases. It is increasingly spreading because they are not living as God has intended them to live together with each other. And that is because humans are slipping into clearly unbiblical and clearly inhuman relations. It is not a private matter or a right to live in a sexual manner other than what the Bible dictates."

He moved back to the podium and flipped through the Bible before saying, "Hebrews 13:4: 'Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.' Regardless of how society views this, God will judge both society and those who commit sexual immorality. Remember that. Both society or the city, or the place, God will judge because of those who commit sexual immorality."

He waved the thick book at them, "Sexual immorality, sexual immorality, people. These homosexuals, these people that tempt our children, these people who claim to live in healthy relationships. These people say that? They are lying. They are lying to you, and you, and you. God ranks these people, who claim to live in healthy and supportive relationships, on the same level as adulterers, abusers, pedophiles, child molesters."

"God tells Abraham in Genesis 18:20: "And the LORD said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous." Thus says the Lord. So grievous! The outcry from Sodom and Gomorrah it is great and the sin is great. Openly, unabashedly, that is how we perceive men kissing each other, and women kissing each other. However, it is also done in front of TV-cameras - which they can do. They do it also in front of movie cameras, but not only that, it is done openly in the street and at our public places. That is the way it is done in our country today. What does God say? He says it is very grievous. It is very grievous when it comes to our country, just as it was for Sodom and those cities."

Quinn saw her parents nod and murmur their agreements with him, and swallowed. She wasn't sure, exactly, why she was nervous. She wasn't gay, had never been sexually attracted to anyone for any length of time except for Rachel. And Rachel wasn't all female anyways, as her pregnancy could attest. Which - no, that was inaccurate as well. She thought about Rachel's soft room, softer eyes, and gentle mouth and couldn't imagine her as any more or less of a woman. She couldn't imagine Rachel in Hell for being attracted to her.

It wasn't simple denial so much that she really couldn't imagine Rachel - who volunteered at the rec center, participated in a ton of clubs, had never gotten into trouble at school, was in advanced classes, who smiled so sweetly sometimes that Quinn couldn't help but smile back – that she would go to Hell for being with Quinn, unofficially.

She looked at her parents, who were nodding along to the sermon, and placed one hand on her cross, the left one that had first touched Rachel. She could believe and understand that the baby, Finn, and Rachel were part of a test, was part of God's plan.

But her feelings for Rachel? They had to be real. They were more intense than anything she had ever experienced.

Rev. Kenneth was still going strong, "Satan preys on these feelings; these feelings of inadequacy, of hate, of loneliness! He sends the agent to fix that, be it alcohol, drugs, sex, that boy or girl, that man or woman, who says they know just how to make you feel better! Satan has sent them, Satan is here! Satan is in our classrooms, on our radio and television, in our homes! God is the answer! God is here! God will save you from depression, from loneliness, from alcohol and sex!" He mopped his brow.

One of the older women said, "Preach, reverend!"

He laughed lightly, took a sip of water.

"God did not design the world for homosexuals, did not allow humans free will so they could ruin his message! He does not believe in homosexuality, transsexuals, bastard children! He believes in a man and a woman, in a mother and father! Domestic partnerships, Boston marriages, roommates! They are all the same thing! They, you, are so concerned with worldly matters, in the pleasures of the flesh, in fornication, that they, you have forgotten about Him."

Rev. Kenneth blinked the sweat out of his eyes and said, softly, "He is in you, He is in me. It's just that sometimes; it takes a little more time to find Him for some. God loves us all, especially his sinners. But our choices," He repeated himself, swaying a little, "our choices, ladies and gentlemen. They put us on the route to Hell."

The congregation clapped and stomped loudly, rising to their feet. Quinn continued to touch her cross, staring down at her lap. The reverend had mentioned bastard children but God would protect and love her baby, wouldn't he? Jesus had said to give him the little children, hadn't he?

Quinn was pulled out of her thought by her mother taking her hand. She took her left hand off the cross and looked to her left, as she gave whomever her hand. It was a young boy with short, blond hair and he gave her a sunny smile.

She smiled back and then everyone bowed their heads in prayer.

The drive home was quiet. "That was a good sermon," Judy eventually said.

Russell hummed in agreement, "I liked it. Quinnie? What did you think?"

She swallowed, then managed to rasp out, "It was informative."

Her mother nodded, shifting in her seat, "I heard something similar by John Haggerty on Day Star. I think our reverend did a better job, though."

Russell smiled, "Of course he did." Quinn swallowed down resentment. That's what he was proud of. He was proud of a grown man, older then he was, had just told about five percent of the world's population that they were going to Hell. His daughter getting straight A's, being captain on the nation's top high school cheerleading squad, dating the quarterback; none of that was anywhere close.

The silence of the car pressed down on them, before Russell said, "Do you mind making some snacks or something for Monday? The Welterweight boxing match is tomorrow."

Judy sighed, just a little, "That's fine, Russell. I wished you could tell me these things earlier."

Russell ignored her complaint, "I can't wait to see McNalley win."

Quinn pretended to have some interest, "Who is he fighting against?"

"Trevor Jones; he's from some big city, Phoenix or whatever."

"Oh."

It got quiet again, and Quinn wished she'd brought her MP3 player, at least for the ride. For Christmas, she was supposed to get either a larger one or an iPod, but now she'd have to wait until after the baby was born to see if there was any extra money between Rachel and Finn's jobs. She had no doubt that her parents would have kicked her out by then.

Her father glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror, and she thought of Gretchen saying she had her father's eyes. His eyes were nicer, more amber then brown, flecks of darker brown in them. Her eyes were more a murky green. Swamp eyes, she finally decided, thinking of her Grandma Miller's postcards from Louisiana. Grandma Miller was really a great-aunt, but she'd raised her mother after her real grandmother had died. She was better than her father's parents, though.

Colonel Fabray was cold and impersonal, occasionally gifting her with a pat on the head when she was smaller, and now the occasional remark that she'd grown up nicely. Her Gram-Gram was a nervous, borderline alcoholic mess who'd given her a very full flask on her twelfth birthday. It was only in the last year or so that the Colonel and Gram-Gram had retired to Oregon, with her Uncle Paul and his wife. They had their own house, what had been their summer house before their retirement, and it was fully paid for. Gram-Gram had invited her multiple times to visit whenever she wanted, but she'd always managed to get out of it. They visited on Thanksgiving and hand wrote letters for Christmas. Well, Gram-Gram did, and the Colonel signed his name beside hers.

They pulled into the drive-way and she stretched her arms above her head. It was balmy for October, even if it was early. Last year, it'd been fall in full sweep, and it would have frosted over in the first two weeks. She went to her room and immediately hung her clothes up, before tucking her shoes into their box in the closet. It was still early, so she put on longue pants and a tank top. She didn't have any calls from Rachel or anyone else, so she picked up Interview with the Vampire, seeing that she had never finished it, and continued reading.

By the time her mother came to get her for dinner, she'd started on The Vampire Lestat. She blinked hard at the sight of her mother in the door way.

She put the book down gently and said, "Hi, mom."

Her mother smiled, "Hi, dear. Dinner's ready."

Quinn stretched. "Okay, I'll be right down."

Dinner was always early on Sunday's, and they were relaxed enough that she felt like she could bring up quitting the Cheerios to him.

She cleared her throat, "Dad, how would you feel if I quit the Cheerios?"

His answer was immediate, even as he cut into some of his steak, "Disappointed. Why do you ask?"

She swallowed dryly, then took a sip from her glass of water before she said, "I want to quit the Cheerios."

His hands stilled, then curled them tightly around his utensils, "Why do you want to quit? The squad is very good for you. It keeps you focused, energized, you're the best in the country, there are colleges looking at you already, Quinn. Why would you want to mess that up?"

She stared down at her plate, "I'm not doing so well in school. I got a B in my science class, dad." That was an exaggeration; she'd gotten a very low A, almost a B. "I – just for this quarter, then I'll get right back on it, swear." By the next quarter, she wouldn't have to worry about it.

He took a deep breath, "I'll think about it."

She slumped in her seat, exhausted somehow, just from that quick conversation. She was always tired after fighting her father, no matter how short it was. She drank more of her water, and cut her steak into tiny pieces. She was half-way through it when she felt like she couldn't' eat anymore, and pushed her plate away.

"May I be excused?"

Her father glanced down at her plate, "Yes."

She walked up the stairs calmly, and then threw herself onto her bed. The edge of her pillow smelled like lavender, and she tried not to go to sleep. Emotional exhaustion was even worse than the physical kind, in her experience, but it was still early in the evening. Going to sleep now still seemed like a good idea, though. Morning sickness would probably wake her up, she finally decided, and went to search for a clean pair of pajamas.

She decided th at a bath would do her more good than a shower, and filled the tub most of the way, sprinkling a little of her body wash to give it foam. She stripped and climbed into the tub. There was a moment where it was too hot, but then she sighed and slumped back into it contently. Her eyes fluttered a little, as she looked up at her ceiling. Tension she hadn't known had settled into her back and shoulders, and the stress melted away. She slumped further down so her mouth was below the water, and she blew bubbles into it, feeling silly.

The two thoughts hit her, suddenly, one after the other. One was of her and Rachel in the grass and she was blowing raspberries on her stomach just like this, watching her toss her head and laugh. The other was of doing this to a small, chubby baby with soft white-gold ringlets and who gave her a stunning, dimpled grin while kicking his feet. She blinked hard and, even though she was alone, pretended it was the steam.

She wondered if that was what she eventually had to look forwards to, and the future didn't seem so bleak. Rachel would carry the baby around like her life depended on it, probably, and support her besides. Quinn didn't really want her to, though. Rachel deserved more than some minimum wage job, and Lima. She deserved cities with bright lights that would fulfill her big dreams.

Quinn shook her head to that train of thought and let her legs buoy up to entertain herself briefly before she got down to the real business of bathing and washing her hair. She blow-dried her hair, brushed her teeth, and put her pajamas on. She laid in bed but couldn't sleep. She turned over onto her side, and felt a little pathetic when she wished that Rachel was there, which led her back to thinking of what Judy had said on Saturday. She'd be kicked out in a matter of weeks, really, if not a week, so she got out of bed, looked in her closet for a duffle bag, and filled it with the immediate necessities, things that would still fit when her pregnancy started to show.

Underwear, her warmer clothes, socks, and sneakers. The stuff she used everyday would have to wait until the day-of, but she packed her baby blanket in there, 'Crush,' and 'The Grapes of Wrath.' A little more thought led to the books Franny had bought her over the summer, a Maya Angelou set, 'Fire to Fire' by Mark Doty, and 'Sense and Sensibility.' She could fit more, no doubt, but those were things that wouldn't be missed. Quinn rubbed her gritty eyes, forced the bag into the back of the closet, and flopped onto her bed before flicking off the light.

The next morning, dressed sensibly in a baby doll dress and flats, and with two changes of clothes, Quinn waited until her father was gone to come downstairs. Quinn poured herself a bowl of cereal and took an apple out of the bowl before she ate. She was running out of time, so she only rinsed the bowl and spoon before putting them in the little-used dishwasher. Her mother pursed her mouth at first, and then seemingly deflated to kiss Quinn's cheek and presented her with her lunch.

"Have a good day," Judy said.

Quinn smiled briefly at her, and headed to her car. Half-way to the school she saw that her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. She took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. The worst they could do was throw a slushy at her, and she had clothes for that. It was the emotional aspect of it, really, that would get her. She parked near the front, by the handicapped spots, and took a deep breath. She nearly screamed when there was a sharp knock on her window. Santana's smirking face appeared and she flipped her off before getting out of the car.

"What up, bitch?" Santana said. Quinn rolled her eyes, deciding not to answer, and reached in the backseat for the garment bag holding the Cheerio uniform as well as her book bag and lunch bag.

Santana eyed the garment bag before asking, "So, you're really doing it?"

Quinn nodded, "I have to."

Santana bit her lip briefly before nodding as well. Quinn was surprised to feel an arm wrap around her shoulders and looked up to see Brittany's smiling face. "I'll walk you in," She said. Quinn knew it was a strategy. Dousing Brittany in slushy was a truly terrible idea, and Santana shadowed them most of the way.

Ms. Sylvester was reading a file when she came in and sat at the chair across from her. She fiddled with the ends of her sweater, crumpled the paper bag, and scratched at a design on her book bag before finally clearing her throat.

The older woman looked up at her and gave her a shark-like smile.

"Q. What can I do for you?"

She swallowed and croaked out, "I'd like to turn in my uniform."

"Did you lose that weight I told you about?"

Quinn took a deep breath and said, as peacefully as she could, "I'd like to quit for personal reasons."

Ms. Sylvester said, calmly, "You can't quit."

Quinn stood up, "Ms. Sylvester, this is not an option. I am resigning immediately. I would like to be cordial, though."

"This had better be because of your spawn and nothing else."

She froze.

Ms. Sylvester looked at her blankly, "Listen, Fabray. You can't quit. Know why? It's because I'm kicking you off the squad. You aren't dropping a sprog on my field, you understand me?"

She didn't wait for a response before returning to the file. "Now, get out."

Quinn took a few more moments to breathe before she left quietly, gripping both of her bags tightly to her. Brittany and Santana stood by her locker, a frustrated look on Santana's face, and a much sadder one on Brittany's face; she looked on the verge of tears.

When she stood between them, she saw why. Between them was her ruined locker. 'Whore' was spray painted across it sloppily in red, paint bleeding onto the ones to the left, right, and south of it.

They stood for a while in front of it, before Quinn unlocked and opened it. They sighed in relief. All of her things were safe, clean, just a band of red on her history book about an inch across. Santana raised an eyebrow at Theodore Berry and she plucked at his sweater.

"This looks like a Berry voodoo doll." Thinking about what she'd just said, she perked up, "Are you doing voodoo on Berry?"

Quinn was confused, "What? No!"

Santana's shoulders slumped, "Oh. Damn. That would have a little less, y'know, lame."

Quinn rolled her eyes and moved to take her books, as Brittany took a few more, and Santana pulled the pictures and magnets down, then took Theodore gingerly, and they moved to Brittany's locker a few rows down. She rarely used it, so for the time being, it was Quinn's. The duo walked her down to her class. She'd come to school early to talk with Ms. Sylvester, assuming it would take longer, so although the door was unlocked, the classroom was empty.

She took her normal seat near the back before Puck sauntered in and sat on the edge of her desk and produced a Lima Bean cup. Seeing the look on her face, he hastily spoke, "It's not coffee, I'm not that dumb. Just a, y'know, peace offering. I didn't mean to be so pig-headed and stupid on Saturday. I hurt your feelings, and messed with your decisions, and with Rachel's head. It's not my business, you and Rachel know what you're doing."

She smiled weakly at him, "Thanks, Puck. I – um, I'm sorry too. Mostly for middle school, when I called you a Lima Loser." Being called a Lima Loser was the dirtiest, foulest thing you could ever call another kid, in Lima.

He scoffed, "Please. Everyone's a bitch in middle school." He smirked, "If we're going to apologize, I'm sorry for calling you BraceFace, thunder thighs, Pepper-Anne, and Juicy Caboosey. I mean, damn, that ass has always been fine."

Quinn scowled, "Shut up. I get it."

His smirk faded into an embarrassed look as he mumbled, "Not done. I'm sorry for the faulty condom."

She blinked, "What?" In all honesty, she just thought that between her vow of chastity and Rachel's unique body, they just hadn't had a condom between them. Now, she recalled that they'd been in Puck's room and if anyone had a long-standing stock investment in Trojan, it was him.

He explained, seeing her face, "During the party, I gave her a couple of my older ones, like a week out the box. They're supposedly good, but apparently not. Just, write a letter to Durex, maybe they'll pay the doctors bills."

The muscular teenager clapped her on her shoulder and said, "Drink that before it gets cold. I got you earl gray."

"Thanks."

He took his seat just before students started to come in. They were sleepy-eyed but their mouths moved with new gossip. One word was repeated, over and over again. Pregnant.

No one approached her, and she didn't talk to any one. She started on the science assignment and took a sip of the tea. Quinn nearly gagged; it tasted like pulverized tree, nothing subtle about it at all. The irony that she was in biology class wouldn't hit her until she was already in Spanish class and looked at their notes on the reproductive system. The book didn't detail the human pregnancy, but did see fit to mention that the ideal weight to gain was something between twenty-five to thirty-five pounds. Great. She hadn't noticed anything yet, but in two or three weeks it would be really apparent that she was gaining weight. No matter what, her parents couldn't find out until the very last possible moment.

Quinn knew there was a God when Finn sat next to her and asked, "Can we tell your parents on Saturday?" It just seemed as if he didn't like her much.

She took a deep breath. "No. My parents are going to either kill me or kick me out. Maybe both."

His shoulders slumped, "Oh. Can we tell my mom, then? I don't like keeping stuff form her."

Finn had known for about two weeks. She'd kept a secret for five years. Rachel had kept one her whole life. She was comparing them again, and she didn't want to but it was very hard when he kept saying stupid stuff like that.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but Carole was a sweet woman that would help out. And, quite possibly, figure out that Finn wasn't the father. Why did life have to be so complicated?

She asked that question again as she entered the cafeteria and some hockey player threw a slushy in her face. She'd closed her eyes at the last moment, so her eyes didn't sting too badly, but the utter humiliation hit her with twice the speed and double the force of a freight train. And then there was a second wave of sensation, wet and cold and sticky. Double slushed. Who knew it could happen to her? There was a shocked silence for a moment, and then the cafeteria burst into laughter. She wiped her eyes and went to the restroom to wash up, keeping her eyes down so she didn't have to see what color it was, or how terrible she looked. Tina and Brittany were there, and seeing her, Tina's mouth formed an 'o' and Brittany immediately wet some napkins to wipe her face. The napkin came away a mix of purple and red. She could only stand it for a few moments before she took them from her and said, "I can do it myself."

They left her in the bathroom, and she didn't cry at all as she cleaned herself off. The slushy had only breached the first layer of clothing, so she took off her sweater and skirt, and proceeded to rinse her hair out with an empty water bottle. It was slow going, but eventually her hair didn't have any trace of red or purple. She washed her face, neck, and forearms to keep from feeling sticky before she changed into her spare clothes, putting the dirty ones into a plastic bag, and leaving for the auditorium. She had a feeling it would either be empty or sparsely occupied.

Sparsely occupied was an understatement. It was empty, but after her small lunch, she was restless and needed to keep from thinking about everything so she went to explore the rooms behind the stage. There were two large dressing rooms, one for boys, and the other for girls, which were unlocked and empty. There was an orchestra pit, dusty from disuse, and two storage rooms. The first storage room was props and scenery. The second was costumes and fabric, and, after looking around, she stumbled upon Rachel, napping on top of what looked like a really thick, comfortable blanket. She nudged her with a foot, then sunk to her knees and shook her awake. Bleary brown eyes opened, and she covered her mouth before yawning. She blinked a little before her eyes focused on Quinn and she squeaked, and then covered her mouth again after realizing she had squeaked and scrambled to stand up. Quinn laughed at her and pinched her cheeks. Rachel swatted her hands away and asked, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, "A slushy was thrown at me in the cafeteria, so I cleaned up and came here."

Rachel touched her chin and asked, softness dripping from her every pore, "Are you alright? Want me to beat them up for you?"

She didn't think Rachel could beat up anything besides a teddy bear and win, but it was so very Rachel that she smiled and shook her head, "No thanks, Rocky. I just want this day to be over."

Rachel nodded, her hand sliding up to hold Quinn's cheek, "I can understand that. There have been plenty of days that I wanted things to just hurry up and move on."

Quinn raised her eyebrows, "You?"

It was hard to imagine Rachel fed up with anything but a lack of attention. She really was one of those sweet, genuine people who liked what they liked and were not above admitting it, and didn't let people bring her down. Quinn had tried plenty of times because when she was miserable or upset, the whole world had to be miserable or upset with her, starting with the happy people.

"Yes, me." She raised her eyebrow, probably just to show that she could do it too, the show-off. "No one's born hopelessly romantic and endlessly optimistic, Quinn. That takes years of denial and training."

Quinn laughed at her and bent her head a little to kiss her cheeks, giving them a rosy glow. Rachel beamed at her so that her nose crinkled up and her dimples were on display again. The bell rang above them, and Rachel rubbed at her gritty eyes briefly before she said, "Class time." They were at the actual seats of the auditorium when Rachel announced, "I can go to Glee today; I work from Tuesday to Saturday, three to eight."

Quinn felt a little happy stir in her stomach, "That's great. I miss your singing."

Rachel winked, "Doesn't everybody?"

Apparently, they did, because Mr. Schue announced another new member, this one a stick-thin blonde woman with a flask almost glued onto her hand. "April Rhodes will be our new member," He said enthusiastically. They clapped half-heartedly, and then she got up and sang. She saw that several of the other members looked blown away, and it was obvious how jealous Rachel was, but she didn't see the big appeal. No matter how well she sang, she was still an alcoholic, high school dropout who squatted in houses. Two out of the three were fine, but all three just seemed plain irresponsible. Besides, it had been at least ten years since her class had graduated. Her life should have been, like, 70% okay.

Hummel wiped tears from his eyes, and then jumped when Santana kicked the back of his chair.

"Santana," Mr. Schue chided.

She gave him a blank look. "What? I had a cramp." She kicked it again, harder, and said with no inflection, "Ow."

Mr. Schue ignored her this time, "So, is everyone in agreement? We have two new members, April Rhodes and Casey Richards?"

They murmured agreements, except for Rachel who seemed intent on staring ahead, and Puck, who was giving April Rhodes his sexiest look.

Mr. Sche clapped his hands, "Great! Now, onto Invit – yes, Rachel?"

Santana rolled her eyes, but it was Mercedes who said, "Aw, damn, here we go."

Rachel didn't stand, but said promptly, "Invitationals are not required to compete in any show choir competitions, and if we are the host school, we cannot compete anyways. It'd be best if we simply saved the material for later on, when we are a tighter, more cohesive group. Moreover, we are the only registered show choir in Lima, so it would quite literally be a group of one."

Mr. Schue nodded, looking thoughtful, and Finn asked, "What's that mean, then?"

Rachel turned around, "That means we have a few more weeks to do choreography, who has the lead and who sings backup, harmonies, and – " Seeing that it was going over his head, she stated simply, "We've got more time to practice."

At that, everyone cheered enthusiastically.

Mr. Schue raised his hands and said, "Hold it in, guys. I think having an invitational would still be good. We can invite a school or two from around the county."

Rachel persevered, "Or, we can go to a couple of the sectional competitions and check them out there; if they accept our invitation, they're already competing, so we can save time like that."

He shook his head, "Nice try, but nope. I want you guys to have the same experience I had as a high school student, when Glee was really the big thing."

The teacher blathered on for so long that the other adult in the room said, "Now, Will, I think that's enough. It's not that bad of an idea that R – Riley?"

Rachel said coolly, "Rachel."

"Right, not that bad an idea that Raven had. Maybe the kids can decide? I'm just here for the ride."

The two argued for a while before Puck spoke.

"Broseph, want to go get a burger after this? Ma's working late and Hannah's got aftercare."

Rachel nodded, "That sounds nice." Then, she turned to them and asked, politely, "Would anyone else like to go procure something to eat?"

Most of them hurriedly said no, but Artie looked thoughtful then said, "Sure. Is the car wheelchair accessible, or do I need my mom to come get me?"

Puck smirked, "Dude, you're good. I'll put the chair in back and you can sit in the middle between me and Rachel."

Artie grinned, "Thanks. I'll just tell my mom." The small teenager pulled out his cell-phone and texted a short message.

He looked around, "Is that it?"

Quinn wanted to agree to go, but then realized that she'd have to talk to her parents about being out, despite doing almost exactly the opposite of what her father had told her. Rachel tried not to look too eager but it failed; her eyes too bright, her mouth too readily curved, hands clenched on her lap. She shook her head as Santana scoffed, "Bitches, please, I've got better things to do."

"I'll go," Finn said, and he gave Rachel a dopey grin. The light in her eyes faded and she notched her smile up to make up for it, although Quinn could tell it was mostly fake. She had liked Finn, she reminded herself, she just happened to like Quinn more.

The arguing had morphed into Ms. Rhodes touching his arm gently and Mr. Schue was babbling about something, probably his crazy-ass wife or the similarities between him and Finn, so they left without so much as a word. Rachel glanced back at her in the parking lot, but then Finn blocked her view. Quinn got into her car and gently tapped her head against her steering wheel. The last damn thing she needed was a concussion on top of everything else.

She sighed softly and prepared for the Inquisition once her father came home. Her mother would understand, but be silent the whole time. The status-quo of her childhood bothered her now. How could she have ever accepted things like this; her father's word as absolute law, her mother's lies and denial when things were absolutely perfect, the Sunday's preaching against a whole group of people, from people who claimed that they were not racist, were not idiots, but could also say, "You people are not welcome here because of who you love."

Quinn tucked her car into the drive-way and entered the house. She smelled tomato sauce and headed into the kitchen. Her mother was reading "The Bell Jar" at the kitchen table; her glasses balanced on the end of her nose that made her eyes seem bigger.

"Hi, mom," She said. Her mother jumped, placed one hand over her heart and blinked hard until her eyes focused on Quinn. "Oh, Quinnie," She exhaled, "You scared me. It's not two thirty already, is it?"

"Three thirty," Quinn replied. "I had Glee."

Judy's eyes widened comically wide behind her glasses and she repeated herself, "Oh."

She placed a napkin between the pages as a book mark and turned to the oven. "I'll get that spaghetti finished up soon then."

Quinn walked over and kissed her mother's cheek swiftly. Judy laughed a little, then sniffed her where she was still close to her. She frowned, "You smell sweet. Did you spill a soda on yourself?"

Quinn took the out easily, "Yeah, a Coke at lunch."

Her mother's frown deepened, "Do we need to have a talk about nutrition? In your –" She floundered for a word, "condition – it's best to eat healthy. No one likes splotches."

The blonde wondered how messed up her family was that her mother found it easier to refer to her pregnancy as a disease and she lived in so much fear that her father would find out that she'd probably hide it until she gave birth on his shoes, if she could.

"It wasn't mine," She explained. The fictitious Coke was about to bury her even deeper in the well of lies at this rate. What, would she want the name of the student who spilled it next?

"Well, who spilled it all over you? It's a very strong smell, Quinn."

"I don't know, just some kid I passed on the way."

Her mother replied sulkily, "Well, fine, don't tell me."

Quinn rolled her eyes so hard, it was a wonder she didn't hurt anything.

Judy had moved to the fridge and pulled out two bellpeppers and a tomato out by the time Quinn left. The teenager sprawled across her bed for a few brief moments, and then rolled over to start on her homework.

"Stupid geometry," She mumbled. "Stupid history. I'm just going to be a real estate agent anyways." All the girls who got pregnant in high school were real estate agents eventually, and she couldn't imagine herself as some famous inspiration to all the girls out there, just like her. She supposed she should have hopes for herself like that, but she couldn't really think of herself in that position, up on stage next to Rachel, beaming into cameras. She'd rather be at home with a book, that late, smelling like baby powder and soap and sneaking peeks at the muted TV, Rachel in HD.

She slammed her books down and then slammed them open. "Stupid thoughts," She muttered to herself. "Like that would ever happen."

Her cell phone chirped and then chirped again. She turned to it and saw a picture message and a normal text message. The picture was from Finn, a picture of a sinful looking bacon cheeseburger with perfect, golden curly fries. The text message was from Rachel.

**I wish you were here, this stuff is calling my name and I'm vegan.**

Quinn blinked hard and pretended that neither of the messages were there. She'd had to pretend a lot, lately, and it was getting easier each day.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Author's note: This may be the last chapter for about a month. It's not intentional, but I have a ton of finals, testing for my advanced placement classes (for those of you who don't know, advanced placement tests are tests that exempt you from taking that course in university), and general end of the school year issues.

Chapter 8 –

Friday came sooner than Quinn wanted it to. She'd sat with Rachel during lunch for the rest of the week, reading while she napped. Working so close to her bed-time probably exhausted her and Quinn couldn't help but feel a little guilty as Finn and Rachel got into her car after school and Rachel directed her to the clinic. Finn had asked, awkwardly, if Rachel could go with them because she was helping him pay for it. She'd had to work to sound ambivalent to it instead of just plain ecstatic. It was a small building not that far into Akron; the receptionist behind the counter didn't bat an eyelash at the three teenagers standing awkwardly in the waiting room.

A young man came over and handed them a clipboard. "Whoever is pregnant needs to fill this out. It's all relevant information, your name, birth date, ethnicity, where we can contact you, the price for basic things. There are pamphlets up front about genetic testing if either of the parents is a risk."

Rachel asked, hesitantly, "Would you please describe a genetic risk?"

He ticked them off with his fingers, "African-American, Latin-American, Native American, Indian-American, Asian-American, overweight, underweight, Jewish-"

"We'll take one," Quinn finally said. "Finn, please go get one." He opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed and went to get a pamphlet. The girls sat in the hard chairs and Quinn was thankful it was nearly empty. There were three other people besides the three teenagers; one a young woman, and another, a harassed looking father with his daughter, who coughed periodically into his sleeve. She then sneezed and wiped her nose with the end of his jacket. He never flinched. The daughter looked up at them with very gray eyes underneath a mop of straw-colored hair and wiggled her fingers at both of them. Quinn smiled, and she saw that Rachel was beaming at the girl as well.

A nurse stepped out and looked at the clipboard, "Alison Mosshart? The doctor will see you now." The young woman stood up, and Quinn ducked her head down to fill out her form.

Most of it really was simple stuff. It required a social security number, but she'd expected that and had written it on the edge of the note Rachel had left her all that time ago. Rachel looked down at it and gave her a soft smile, "I didn't know you still had it."

She shrugged, "I wasn't upset that week." Quinn was actually still a little upset that she'd ripped up the note that Rachel had left last in her locker. It wasn't often she got such sweet gifts and the blonde would probably gather them all and put them somewhere in a more organized manner then the front pocket of her book bag and her locker one day. Rachel proved just about every few days how easy it was to get into a locker.

Speaking of, how did she manage to do that?

"How do you keep getting into my locker?" Quinn asked, hand above the ethnicity of father question. Damn. Rachel was fairly dark, but she didn't have any African-American or Asian features, but she also didn't look fully Caucasian. She finally checked the multi-racial box.

"Trial and error."

She thought for a second Rachel was being serious, and then she saw the edge of a smirk. "Who'd you pay to get that?" She rolled her eyes.

"Jacob ben Israel knows the locker combination of every Cheerio. I smiled at him and he gave it to me."

Quinn gagged. She couldn't imagine talking to that creep for a long enough period of time to get anything but a case of head-lice. He was just – weird, and not in the way that people said Rachel was weird. Rachel was weird in that way that she was overly sincere in everything, hardly lied at all, liked what she liked with no apologies, and was an old film junkie (she'd talked her ear off last night about Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, and All Quiet on the Western Front and why, exactly, new movies would not live up to their standards). Jew-Fro was weird in that way that you checked outside your window and underneath your bed each night.

Finn lumbered back to them, and handed her three pamphlets. One said, "Genetic Risks: Are you one?" A second said, "What to expect when you're expecting: A guide for the young mother." The last said, "Baby and me: basic expenses from pregnancy to toddlerhood."

These were good choices and before she could ask, he explained, "The lady at the counter gave it to me."

She didn't say anything, but filled out the rest of the information before she gave it to Rachel, who stood and gave it to the woman at the counter. The kid coughed again, one that rattled in her chest, and the father put her on his lap and rocked her gently. Finn rubbed his eyes looking at them and said, softly, "That could be us one day."

Quinn cleared her throat, "Yeah." But it was closer to being Quinn and Rachel than Finn and Quinn.

He looked down at his hands, "You think we should decide on names?"

She shook her head, "No. It's really early on and we don't even know the sex yet. This one is just to make sure that the baby's healthy and growing at the right rate."

"Oh."

Rachel returned with the three pamphlets and started to read them.

A second person came out the door and said, "Jerry and Micah Tart?"

The father stood up, picking his daughter up and placing her head on his shoulder, her tan legs dangled almost to his waist; it was obvious she had to be really sick. "Yes?" His voice was a little creaky, and sounded tired.

"Dr. Renault will see you now." The man followed the intern or nurse through the door. Finn's legs started to jiggle and Rachel bit at her thumbnail as she read. Quinn stared ahead, forcing herself to calm down. There wouldn't be anything wrong with the baby. He or she was perfectly healthy and starting to form organs and fingers and a brain. She was eating right, and hadn't skipped a meal in almost two weeks. Her mother was starting to make all those vegetables that those pregnancy websites recommended. Rachel switched to her right index finger. Finn held his head between his hands. Quinn closed her eyes and prayed. Please let my baby be healthy, please let him or her be fully formed, I don't need anything else, I don't.

All three of them jumped up when someone called, "Quinn Fabray?" Seeing their faces, the young man from earlier smiled as if to ease their nervousness, "Dr. Kim will see you now."

There were quite a few little rooms that they passed on the way, and almost all of them were occupied. Rachel was still biting her nails and Finn was drumming his fingers in the air as Quinn was instructed to sit on the edge of a cushioned chair lined with paper. She sat and picked at the edge of her sweater until Dr. Kim came in. She was small, smaller then Rachel even, and said briskly, "Is this your first ultrasound?"

She nodded, and then stuttered over her tongue, "Yes, it's my first ultrasound."

The doctor nodded, "And how far along are you?"

"Seven weeks."

"From your last menstruation?"

"No, from the conception."

She hummed and made a note on her chart, "Okay, just so you know, we count from your last menstruation, when it comes to your expecting date. So, you're nine weeks.

Finn asked, "How often do we need to have these ultrasounds, Dr. Kim?"

"Including this one, three because as teenagers, you're high risk. This is to confirm the pregnancy, the second will be between sixteen and twenty weeks to see if there are any issues and the gender, and for you, the last would be after that, but at least two weeks before delivery, just to make sure everything's fine."

"And they'll each run along the same price?" Rachel asked.

The doctor raised her eyebrows, but said, "Yes. The anomalies test is purely visual unless you ask for the amniotic fluid test, which may be up to five hundred dollars."

Rachel and Finn nodded. They'd be able to raise the money by then, and the most they would have to pay for would be maternity clothes and stuff for the baby, like a crib or a bassinet. Dr. Kim turned to Quinn and asked, "Do you feel comfortable having everyone in here, or do you want it to just be the two of us?"

"This is fine."

She nodded, "Very well. I'll go get the machine."

She stepped out the room and closed the door behind her. Finn and Rachel were both fiddling with their hands again, and Quinn closed her eyes.

"Thanks for doing this, Rachel," Finn said.

"It's perfectly fine. You and Quinn are my friends and I'll be glad to help."

"That's really awesome of you." He sounded almost awed and she resisted the urge to just – to just hit him or call him names. Something very unladylike, at any rate. "Where's Puck today?"

"He's watching Hannah."

Things were quiet again, and then there was a knock on the door. One of them opened it and Dr. Kim's voice was heard again, "Thanks. Hey, big guy, you mind helping me put this next to your girlfriend?"

The wheels clacked and the door snapped closed behind them before the doctor said, "Would you mind opening your eyes, Miss Fabray?" Quinn did and was greeted by Rachel's concerned face. "Are you feeling okay?" She mouthed, and Quinn nodded to her. Rachel didn't look very reassured but she couldn't exactly do more with Finn in the room. Finn was still helping set the machine up and held up a wire and what looked like a connector with it.

"Where do I put these?"

The doctor took them from him, plugged the wire into one side of it and held up the wand before turning the ultrasound machine on. Finn moved to stand next to Rachel. Quinn had changed before they left school into sweatpants and an older t-shirt. There was no way that her mother would her out like that, disgrace or not.

"Lift your shirt up, please."

Quinn pulled her shirt up and Dr. Kim said, "I'm going to put some gel on your stomach. It'll be a little cold, but be patient; it'll warm up really fast."

She squirted some on Quinn's stomach and smeared it with the flat part of the wand. It was colder than cool but Quinn clenched her fists. Dr. Kim flicked a knob and they heard what sounded like galloping horses underwater.

"Whoa," Finn and Rachel said at the same time, and looked at each other over Quinn's head.

"That's the baby's heart beat?" Quinn asked. Her eyes were watery and she quickly rubbed them.

Dr. Kim nodded, "Yes. You have a nice, healthy baby with a heart rate of 157 beats. The average is from 120 to 180."

Rachel sniffled a little and Finn looked dumb-founded.

The doctor grinned at them, "Hold on, let me see if I can get a better vision of your baby."

She moved the wand around so that the sound got stronger, and then said, "Ah-ha!"

A grayish-white blob appeared on the screen and Dr. Kim said, "And that's your baby. Friendly little thing, too; normally I have to search a little more."

That was all Rachel. The baby was an attention-whore already. She felt a little bad, thinking of her baby like that, but the truth was the truth. They stared at the screen, then Finn said, "Are you sure that's a baby? It looks like one of those aliens."

Quinn wanted to strangle him and could feel herself rapidly coloring. The doctor only laughed though, "I've heard that before, Miss Fabray, don't worry." She turned her face to Finn's, "Yes, young man, that is a baby. He or she will look more like a human next time, I swear. Right now, he or she is developing organs, a brain, fingernails, the whole nine yards, and without that stuff, you pretty much look like a blob."

He nodded and gave a relieved grin. Rachel was still staring at the sonogram machine and said, voice choked, "Do we get pictures, or a CD of them or something?"

Dr. Kim nodded, "Yes. I'll take a few now, then I'll print them and give you five wallet sized, one for a scrapbook, and the CD with more for you to print out on your own."

She pressed something on the wand, then flicked the machine off, and said, "And that's it, ladies and gent. Miss Fabray, I'll give you some paper towels to clean up with or you can head to the bathroom, and I'll print these out for you."

"Who do we pay?" Rachel asked. She was still staring at the blank machine.

"The receptionist at the front will give you your total bill. It'll come up to about three hundred, maybe three fifty. Speaking of, you guys want the expected date of birth now or later."

"Now," Quinn said immediately. Anticipation wasn't a good look on her.

"Ok, it's April 24th."

Rachel squeaked, and then covered her mouth with a blush at their looks. "Sorry, but that's Barbra's birthday."

"Who is Barbra?" Finn asked.

"My explanations are wasted on you," Rachel muttered. Quinn was very glad that Rachel was finally starting to learn that Finn was, to put it frankly, an idiot and a jerk. One or the other was fine, but both were pushing it.

"Barbra Streisand," She said. He still looked confused and the brunette sighed, "Never mind, Finn."

The doctor chuckled, cleaning off the wand with sanitation napkins. "Are you two related?"

Finn stuck his tongue out in disgust and Rachel audibly gagged, before they both said, again in unison, "No!" Then they laughed at each other, like they were old friends.

Quinn felt a little jealous of them. Even if they didn't work out, which would be nearly impossible for them to work out even if only because of her, they'd probably still be friends. Being friends with Rachel would probably be hurtful at best; Quinn was a selfish soul, it was unlikely that any ex she had would remain her friend. She'd be jealous of anyone else they had, whether she wanted them for herself or not.

Dr. Kim wheeled the machine out. Quinn followed her out the room and saw the sign for the bathroom.

She wet a paper towel and was rubbing the gel off of her stomach furiously when Rachel came in, cupped her face with her hands, and kissed her so wonderfully Quinn's knees buckled. Rachel's thumbs rubbed against her cheekbones as her tongue licked at the entrance to her mouth. Quinn opened up with an audible whimper that was muffled by sucking on Rachel's tongue. How beautiful that was, really, she thought as she dropped her paper towels and threaded her fingers through thick, curly hair. She felt acute warmth in her abdomen and she let her go and stepped back. Rachel's face followed for a moment, and then she opened her eyes and gave a satisfied exhale.

Quinn smiled at Rachel, "What was that for?"

"Because you're beautiful and lovely and I care for you immensely as a person, and I care for you ineffably as the mother of my child." Rachel said it in her quick, frank way, in a manner that left no doubt to her sincerity.

"Oh," Quinn said and felt like an idiot for being unable to articulate everything she wanted to say. Maybe the baby would be lucky and get Rachel's propensity for overt verbosity.

They stared at one another before Quinn gestured to her abdomen, "I'm just going to clean this up."

Rachel nodded, flushed, and turned away.

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked," Quinn laughed.

Rachel mumbled, "Shut up."

Quinn rubbed what was left of the gel off of her stomach, dried her abdomen, and then dropped her shirt. Rachel was still turned away from her and she said, "I have to pee."

Rachel immediately exited the room and Quinn went into the stall, hurried about her business, and then washed her hands before exiting. Rachel was standing just outside the door and she bumped her shoulder against her gently. Rachel smiled at her as they walked over to Finn, who was outside the room, and they moved to the waiting room. Finn and Rachel conversed lowly over the bill, then banded their money together and paid the receptionist.

Rachel had given the majority, and told Finn to stifle his complaints as they left, "The stuff after this is going to cost much more. A crib, blankets, clothes, shoes; all of that you'll have to save up for, Finn. If you're afraid you'll lose it or spend it unnecessarily, I'll hold it for you, but don't worry about the ultrasounds."

He nodded, thankfully, and the teenagers climbed into her car, headed home.

Just as they were getting onto the interstate, Finn switched her radio station casually onto the classic rock station. She'd had it on the one classical music station her radio received. Most of the Internet agreed that classical music stimulated brain development; the parts that didn't, said playing it backwards revealed satanic references.

Quinn turned it back to the original station. Finn switched it again, and started drumming on the dashboard to the song on the radio. She forced herself not to say something sharp, and instead turned it off.

"Hey," He whined, and then shrank back at the look she gave him. They were quiet, he with his arms crossed in a sulky fashion, and Quinn with both hands on her steering wheel. A glance in her rear view showed that Rachel had stretched herself across the back seat and was listening to music. Her iPod was on her stomach, one of those brick-like ones that held over a hundred gigabytes. The drive to Lima was quiet, except for when Rachel sang softly to herself.

"The clouds above opened up, and let it out," She sang, at one point. "I was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere when the water filled every hole."

Finn grumbled, "Why does she get to sing and I can't drum?"

She sighed, ignored him, and stared straight ahead. Home couldn't happen fast enough.

They were almost home when Finn's phone rang. He answered, "Hi, mom."

She could only hear his side of the conversation but the basis of it was that she was concerned of where he was and wanted to see them before they went home. "Do you want to see my mom?" He asked.

Quinn tried to think of a diplomatic answer to "Hell no." Finally, she said, "If Rachel goes, I'll go." If she was going to be in an awkward, guilt filled situation, she was sharing the guilt and terrible feelings.

He smiled, and twisted around to tap her shoulder. She pulled one headphone out and he asked, "Do you want to see my mom?"

There was a pause that felt long to Quinn, but Rachel finally said, "No, thank you. I have some things to do today."

Finn slumped in his seat, and mumbled their response into the phone. He hung up a little bit after that, but didn't say anything else on the drive until they were in his driveway. "She knows about the baby," He told her, before he closed the door.

She forced herself to remain still and quiet. There was no way Finn had said that. There was no way in all Hell that Finn had just dropped a bomb like that, and left. Apparently, he had because she felt like her chest was caving in and Rachel was suddenly next to her, holding her face, taking overly exaggerated breathes. Rachel pressed her forehead to Quinn's when she managed to regain her breath and said seriously, dark eyes surprisingly dull, "We need to switch seats."

Quinn agreed as well as she could and exited, Rachel on the other side. Carole was at her front window, and waved at them. They both waved, and Quinn could see her guilt reflected on the other girl's face. Quinn nearly collapsed in the front seat, and Rachel adjusted the driver's seat for her own height. Rachel drove them slowly, but not in a way that seemed cautious so much as she was postponing them leaving. She was a good driver, but antsy. Her fingers kept twitching against the steering wheel, like she was restraining herself from doing something else.

"Home?" Rachel asked her. Quinn stared ahead, and then shook her head. "No."

The brunette nodded and turned down another street, and then another and another, until they were nearly in the surrounding corn fields. Rachel parked, and turned the car off. They sat in silence until Quinn took a deep, shuddering breath and said, "I asked him to wait. I asked him to wait to tell his mother and he couldn't even do that for me."

Rachel took her hand and Quinn leaned her head against the back of the seat. Quinn bit her lip. "I never wanted to lie to anyone."

It was, at least partially, the truth. She'd never wanted to lie to anyone because she hadn't intended to get pregnant. She'd planned on crushing Rachel's spirit to the best of her abilities, being the best cheerleader, dating the quarterback, going to Church and believing in that message as essentially as she could. One stupid party and her entire life was turning into something she couldn't understand.

Rachel remained silent, simply holding her hand. Quinn continued to speak, "I'm going to have to tell her someday that the picture she has, isn't of her grandchild."

Quinn didn't even have any tears, just stared at the dying stalks of the corn. They were still and silent in the car for almost an hour before Quinn's cell phone rang. She answered, "Hello?"

Her mother's voice was concerned, "Quinn, it's almost five. I know you're a teenager that needs some freedom, but I'd like to know when you come and go."

"Sorry, mom," Quinn apologized. "I was just with my friend. I'll drop her off and come home, okay?"

"Don't hurry now, your father has a late meeting, but I'd like for you to be inside by seven. Besides, we have the chastity ball gown, and I wanted to make sure that it fit."

Quinn agreed, and told Rachel what her mother had said. Rather than taking the opportunity to hang out, Rachel took the printed out sonogram and said, "You should give the sonogram to your mother. I think she'd like it."

The blonde couldn't agree to that, really. Her mother would probably start sobbing or go get a drink. Maybe both, if she'd been having a good day. Quinn thought of the two she had and replied reluctantly, "I don't know if she could hide it from my dad. They share everything with each other."

This was the biggest lie in their marriage, as far as she knew. Her father's adulterous ways were unacknowledged, but at least known. Her earliest memory was of the entire family praying. Her second earliest was of her kindergarten teacher spread over the couch, her father on top of her, and her mother dropping the groceries they'd just bought. He'd been better at hiding them since then.

She had a sudden, sickening thought. What if they got a divorce and she was the reason? She wasn't sure if she could get over that. Quinn shook her head, her hair fluttering against Rachel's neck, and Rachel rubbed her thumb along Quinn's fingers, offering her silent support again. Quinn let her hand go, and dug into her book bag for the photos. They were pressed between the textbooks, and she held up the print out of the ultrasound.

"Look at our baby," Quinn said softly. Rachel leaned closer and said, "He or she does look a little like an alien."

Quinn smacked her on the shoulder and Rachel laughed. Quinn took another look at the photo, and found a slight resemblance to E.T. around the head. The baby probably had Rachel's head; she and Rachel had heads around the same size, despite Rachel's petite stature everywhere else. Well, almost everywhere else, if you excluded her shoe size.

The blonde put the photo down and pulled Rachel closer by the head before flattening the hair down.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You've got a big head so I'm trying to imagine your head baby-sized."

Rachel shook her hands off and scowled at her, "Shut up. As long as the baby doesn't get your ears, we'll be fine, Dumbo."

"Dumbo was a cooler character then E.T."

"He flew with his ears!" Rachel replied, incensed.

Quinn insisted, smiling, "Better than a bike."

Rachel pouted and Quinn laughed at her pout before kissing her protruding bottom lip. Rachel exaggerated it to get another, then hooked her hands around Quinn's ears and pulled her in when she was close. Quinn was a little upset that it actually worked, she didn't think her ears were that big, but at the same instance Rachel's tongue rubbed against her lips and she couldn't think beyond, "More, more, more."

Before she could crawl onto Rachel's lap, she forced herself to think of dead animals and other things, before she leaned away. Rachel's hands had moved from her ears to her hair, and she tugged a little on her hair when they parted, but made sure Quinn was paying attention as she licked her lips lasciviously. Quinn shook her head at her and asked to distract herself, "How'd you get work off today?"

"I traded shifts with someone," Rachel explained. "Normally, I wouldn't be allowed to, but he's taking Sunday off and Friday was more convenient for both of us. Our manager decided to allow it."

Quinn nodded, "Are you ready to go home, or do you want to do something?"

Rachel replied, "Noah wanted to go to the local comic book store, Alter Ego, around six o'clock; do you want to go?"

The blonde told herself that she needed to stop being surprised by Rachel. "I wouldn't mind. It's just you and Puck?"

The brunette looked thoughtful, "I'm unsure. Normally it is, but sometimes there are a couple of my cousins, or his cousins. I think Dale and his brother Edwin are coming."

She didn't think she would be overly bored and agreed, "As long as we finish before eight."

Rachel grinned and they switched seats. Rachel directed her to the small comic book store, a converted shop front. She pulled up somewhat close to Puck's distinctive truck, and found him leaning against it. They walked a little ahead of her, and she heard Puck say lowly, "Not that I'm still pissed at Fabray, but seriously? It's bro night, Rachel, you didn't have to bring her."

"I wanted to bring her. You've brought several girls to bro night." She smiled a little, but somewhat upset that she was making them argue again. Bro night sounded so weird coming from Rachel though, that she couldn't help but smile.

He protested, "But I wasn't serious with them. You're in lesbians with Fabray, or something?"

"In lesbians?" Rachel asked.

"Dude, we read the Scott Pilgrims comics together. About the dude and the band and the chick and the other dudes and that one other girl."

"Despite the fact that you've made several sweeping generalizations towards media in general, I now recall what you meant. And, no, I am not in love with Quinn. I care about her immensely, and I think later on I could love her, but right now we're still very young and this is a very unusual situation. I'd prefer to take it slow; you understand what I'm saying."

Puck rolled his eyes, "Right. Not in love with her. Okay. The left side of my ribs doesn't say the same thing."

Rachel gave a noisy sigh, turned partially, saw Quinn, and winked. Puck coughed twice, words clearly audible, "In love!" Rachel glared and he said, "Geez, sorry, fine. Lesbian gay-type lovers then."

Rachel rubbed her eyes, "I don't understand what your obsession with Buffy the Vampire Slayer is."

"Faith Lehane is my spirit animal."

Rachel stopped and stared at Puck, "Right. That makes so much more sense to me."

"It ought to; you're the one in that stupid TV shows fandom."

Quinn gave up on following their conversation, and simply listened to them bicker.

"Don't call Supernatural stupid. You make graphics!"

"You write dissertations on why 'Wincest' is more canon then Destial or whatever."

"Not dissertations, fanfiction."

"Same shit. It's long as all Hell. The difference between gifs, a fanmix cover, and quadrillion words on their childhood is totally different. Besides, it's only in Buffy and Popular."

"Popular was cancelled after two seasons, and was worse than Supernatural."

He scoffed and flopped into a chair dramatically.

She rolled her eyes, pulled out a seat for Quinn, and sat down afterwards, "Don't be such a baby, Noah."

Quinn looked around. It was almost like being in a music store, but in place of vinyl and CD's, there were comics, arranged alphabetically. Puck was craning his neck to look at something, and finally said, "Damn. They don't have the newest Buffy comic."

Rachel said under her breath, "Loser."

He glared and slowly enunciated, "Barbra Streisand."

Rachel glared back at him, and they stared at each other seriously before he asked, "Justice League # 1?"

She scoffed, "Please. It's only Batman and Green Lantern, and all they do is fight. I would rather overlook that travesty."

He scowled, "Don't tell me you're trying to get me into that stupid manga thing again."

"You'll like Katekyo Hitman Reborn! And possibly Naruto. I couldn't get into it, but it's about ninjas."

"I'm not listening to you; you always set me up for failure. Maybe I want a comic that ends happily."

She sighed, "Are you still not over Tokyo Babylon?"

"They were in love, dammit!"

People were murmuring, hearing his statement, and he rubbed his Mohawk briefly; neither he nor Rachel seemed embarrassed at all, so she didn't say anything.

Rachel turned to look at her, "Do you read comics, Quinn?"

She shook her head, "No." Quinn had always preferred the images in her head to looking at someone else's world. Rachel nodded and asked, politely, "Would you like to see a few of the comics I like?"

She didn't particularly want to see them, but she got the feeling that Rachel would at best be a little miffed and at worst a sulky, pouty mess if she didn't see, so Quinn agreed. Rachel tugged her upright and showed her pretty much a whirlwind of names, dates, and back stories. Rachel, she observed, was an enthusiastic talker. Not just in her speaking, which she'd known already, but the way she talked with her whole body. She was angled to face Quinn, her face was open and thrilled, and her hands waved around. Normally, they fluttered a few inches, or her fingers twitched; now, she was basically flailing around and only stopped when she smacked herself in the mouth, and was so surprised she stopped talking for almost a second afterwards, then pressed her fingers to her mouth, pulled them back, and saw blood. Her eyes welled up and she whined, "Quinn, look."

Quinn dutifully looked, despite seeing the whole thing, and pulled Rachel's hands away from her mouth and pulled her lip down a little. Sure enough, there was a small cut from where her bottom tooth had pierced through, but it wasn't going to last long.

"You'll be fine," Quinn told her. "It's just a little cut."

Rachel sniffled pathetically but her eyes dried up and she licked her cut despite Quinn's finger nearly being on top of it, and winced at the sting. Quinn wiped the spit off of her finger onto Rachel's shoulder. Rachel resumed her crash-course of comic book history with X-Men, which Quinn mentally rephrased as Gay Harry Potter. Several times, Rachel had licked the cut on the inside of her mouth, physically shuddering or wincing.

Quinn rolled her eyes as they came to some reloaded version of Gay Harry Potter and Rachel forgot about her life-threatening injury to wave her hands around again and pop herself on the mouth again. Instead of whining this time, she looked down at her hands and tucked them into the pockets of her cardigan carefully, like they were weapons. Quinn's stomach grumbled lowly and she remembered that lunch had been quite a few hours ago. Rachel appeared not to have heard, as she was flipping through a display comic quickly, and then put it down to pick up another one. Quinn was going to get her attention when Puck walked over and said, "Babe, I'm hungry. We should go eat."

Rachel turned to Quinn, "Are you hungry? I could do for some macaroni and cheese."

Puck gagged, "That shit is gross. It's not real cheese, it's like this weird, fake curdled crap."

"This restaurant serves non-vegan food as well," Rachel said casually, most likely to Quinn. It was already six thirty in the evening, though, and she said, a little upset that she couldn't go, "My mom wants me home at seven."

Rachel's face fell, "Oh."

She found herself saying, "Do you guys want to have dinner at my house?"

Rachel actually looked contemplative but Puck replied, "Dude, I like cougars and they like me. A lot. No offense or anything, but you're hot, and your mom is probably the same. If you don't want your mom to have sex with me, I think it's best if we just don't."

Rachel smacked his arm but he didn't even seem fazed. Quinn's mouth gaped even as Rachel confirmed, "I will say, it's probably best if I ever had dinner with your family, it'd have to be without Noah."

She agreed and Puck said, "I'll take Rachel home."

Rachel smiled at her, "Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you for today, Quinn. It's not every day that I get to see a sonogram of our child."

Quinn smiled back, after a moment of looking around, kissed her cheek, and headed to her car. She got home just a little after six-thirty, and stared out at her house from her seat. The sonogram picture was burning a hole in her mind, so she carefully took it out. Her mother was too afraid of her father to even think of helping her, but Quinn didn't have much to lose, in the long run. She was already getting kicked out soon, and knew she'd have a place to stay, likely with Rachel. Her parents didn't seem the type to kick someone out. After all the disappointment, she could do this much for her mother. The blonde exited her car, went in through the front door and found that dinner was on the table. Her mother was washing some of the dishes in the kitchen, and she cleared her throat, fiddling with the strap of her book bag. Her mother looked up and scowled, "Those are not the clothes I sent you to school with."

Quinn nodded, "I know. I had to go to the doctor's after school."

Her mother's hand slipped into the water, and she quickly pulled it back up. "Oh?" Judy's voice was shaky, hesitant.

"Yeah, I had an ultra-"

"Don't say it!"

Quinn ignored her, stating louder, "I had an ultrasound." She stepped closer to her mother, watching her scrub an already clean pan hard, face downwards.

"Mom," She said. "Mom, don't you want to see them? Don't you want to see your grandchild?"

Her mother slammed the pan into the sink, water rising and falling, chest falling and rising, her eyes luminous and sad, "Goddammit, Quinn! Stop this foolishness. You are too young, too smart, for this." She rubbed her face with her soapy hands, voice muffled, "You were supposed to get out. You were supposed to be my pride and joy, the one I wanted, and now you turned out the same way I did, stubborn and silly and dreaming."

Her throat felt like it was closing, "Mom?"

Judy took a deep breath, "I got married to your father at eighteen because I was pregnant with your sister."

Quinn blinked hard, "Oh."

Judy took a deep breath, "Yes. Oh. I came from a good, Christian family, and so did he, and at eighteen, he took me out one night, and when I came home the next morning, I was carrying your sister. We were engaged by the end of the month, and married before I started to show. We called her a honeymoon baby, and nobody ever said anything otherwise."

Quinn said, "Okay," but stayed where she was. It was only after her mother had dried her hands that she gave her the sonogram and scurried out to the dining room. She fixed her own plate, and was nearly finished eating when Judy stepped into the room. The sonogram was in her hand. Quinn was finishing her drink when her mother said, quietly, "You'll have to leave soon."

Quinn stared down into her glass of water, "I know."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

She nodded, "Yes."

Her voice was choked, "They'll – they'll take care of you? They won't bully you, or do anything you don't want them to, right?"

"No, mom. They'll be good to me."

She felt sorry for her mother, suddenly, taking preventive measures to make sure that her daughter didn't end up the same way she did. She kissed her mother on the cheek, then felt one of her hands on the side of her face, and pressed her forehead against her mother's temple for a few long moments before she was let go. Quinn was upstairs and out of sight when she heard the door open with a boisterous, slightly slurred, "Lucy! I'm home!"

Quinn went into her room and closed and locked it behind her. She wasn't scared of her father, physically, because he'd never done much more than swat her on her backside with a brush, but mentally navigating with him could be draining emotionally and mentally. She didn't want to have to tally up how many drinks it took for him to be able to stand her company and went to take a shower. She still didn't have a bulge, thank God, but she pinched the skin around her waist unmercifully, and resolved to hit Rachel later for her involvement in this. Or maybe just tap her. Or possibly just kiss her.

Quinn collapsed onto her bed when she left the bathroom and sighed. It was only seven thirty but she was exhausted and thrilled, just a little, to know her baby was healthy and growing up right on track. She turned the light off and prayed before climbing into her bed. She snuggled into her pillows and went right off to sleep. It was actually a good thing she had gone to bed so early because she woke up at almost five, ready to throw up last night's dinner. More than just the general grossness that came afterwards, she felt sick. Her forehead was warm but her arms felt cold and Quinn was still sleepy. She wasn't sure if her parents were up, and didn't intend to wake them if they weren't. Quinn headed back to bed, and only woke up to her mother shaking her shoulder and a pathetically stuffy noise. Her mother took one look at her, covered her in blankets, and put a heater in the room despite it being maybe sixty degrees.

She went in and out of sleep until almost noon, where she was fed a hearty chicken soup and her mother moved her to the couch so that Judy had company while watching some of her older soaps. There wasn't much on TV on Saturdays. Quinn felt like she couldn't get warm, and was swaddled in two shirts, a sweatshirt, and a heavy afghan when she told her mother. Quinn fell asleep on the couch and woke up to two text messages from Finn. **Wnt 2 hng out? **

The next was only a few minutes old. **Whre r u?**

**Home, im feeling sck**

**O **there was a break, then he texted **im comin over 4 dnr to mke sre u r btr.**

Quinn's eyes drifted around and she felt too exhausted to bother with him now, so she replied **ok.**

Her mother took the time, while she was incapacitated, to put the chastity gown on and make a few adjustments. She tightened it around Quinn's waist, bent to look a little more closely, and said, eyebrows raised, "My, this is going to be a large one."

It was the first time her mother had ever said something somewhat positive about the baby. Quinn told herself not to beam and instead made a sound that could have been positive but also might have been negative, then remembered Finn said he was coming.

"Mom, Finn wants to come today for dinner."

Her mother's mouth thinned, "Fine. I'd have liked some forewarning, Quinn, but I suppose that we have enough turkey for four."

She sneezed and then protested, "I didn't invite him, he invited himself."

"Well, that's inconsiderate," Judy said.

Her mother wrote down the adjustments and then put the dress in a garment bag when Quinn took it off. She yawned and put her pajamas back on before going to sleep on the couch again.

Judy woke her up shortly and sent her upstairs to get dressed for dinner. She checked her phone and saw that Brittany and Rachel had also texted her. They had both asked if she was okay, and she sent **I'm fine, just a little sick.**

Rachel immediately responded **Are you sure you're okay? I can stop by if you want.**

**No, it's okay. It's just a little bug.** Then, she felt like teasing her. **Must have picked it up in the comic store, like nerdfluenza.**

**Hardy har har. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Alter Ego.**

Quinn pulled on her dress before she texted him. **Someone's getting defensive.**

**I am not. Papa's asking about you.**

She smiled. **Tell him I said hi. I have to go to dinner, but I'll text you later.**

**Of course.**

Quinn finished getting dressed, did her hair, and then, after a moment, put on a little make-up. Just as she finished, her mother called upstairs, "Quinn, dinner!"

The blonde went downstairs and took her normal seat before there was a knock on the door. Her father answered, and came back with Finn, who was dressed politely in khaki slacks, a button-down shirt, a tie, and a black jacket. There was a boom box behind him. He kissed her cheek and said, "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Fabray."

Her mother's smile was frosty, "Pleasure to see you, Finn. Please, please, take a seat."

Judy drank her first glass of wine before the prayer, and had downed three more before dinner was over with. Russell drank Scotch throughout dinner, and finally topped them off with a glass of red wine and a whiskey. They didn't like Finn much, than. If they liked someone, they tended to be sober. Neither of them were drunk, but they were definitely erring on the wrong side of tipsy.

Finn cleared his throat, despite babbling throughout most of dinner, and said, "Mr. Fabray, Mrs. Fabray, I'm going to sing you a song."

Her father mumbled, "Ah, Hell," while her mother clapped lightly. Quinn forced herself to keep from laughing.

Finn stood up and pressed play on the boom box. The strands of an annoying familiar song came on and the Fabrays' collective mouth fell open.

"Havin' my baby  
>What a lovely way of sayin'<br>How much you love me  
>Havin' my baby<br>What a lovely way of sayin'  
>What you're thinkin' of me – "<p>

He didn't get much further. Her father threw the boom box to the side and said, lowly, "Son, you've got ten seconds."

Finn stared at him, shocked, "Quinn and I are having a baby. I – They always said that saying stuff through song was best."

Russell wasn't facing her. "Quinn. Is this true?"

Quinn stared ahead.

His voice was louder, "Quinn."

She whispered, "Yes, daddy."

"Son, you'd better be the one pregnant."

Finn laughed weakly, "No, sir."

Russell moved to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a couple of fingers of a drink, then swallowed, and his voice was deathly calm, "Quinn. You've got half an hour to get everything you want. After that, it's in the trash."

Quinn ran up the stairs, and Finn stumbled after her.

"Quinn! Quinn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I didn't think – "

She turned to him, "You never think! I told you no, I told you I didn't want my family to know and what do you do? You tell them in a song!"

Finn stared at her, mouth open, "I – "

"No. I don't want to hear it."

Quinn went into her room, and texted Rachel **Finn just told my parents. Im getting kicked out.**

She put her textbooks in her book bag and the things she used every day. By the time they were actually inside her bag, Finn had entered the room. By the time she'd told him to get out, Rachel, Puck, and the two guys from Glee that never said anything were there. Puck and the two guys pushed past Finn, and Rachel quickly walked over and hugged her tightly. Quinn sniffled into her shoulder, and then sobbed. Rachel rubbed her back and asked softly, "Is that bag the only thing you want?"

Quinn rubbed her eyes, "That's the important stuff. I'd like to have my books and things, so they don't go in the trash, but-"

"No buts," Rachel said firmly. "Matt's family was moving, so we have an empty U-Haul."

The football players had lifted her bed, mattress and all, and navigated it carefully out the room. Puck had some empty trash bags and was putting her books inside it. Rachel took one and was taking her clothes out of the closet. Quinn took one of the black bags as well and took the clothes from her dresser and put them inside. Finn took a hesitant step forward, "Can I help?"

Puck and Rachel snarled, "No!"

He shrank back.

They worked quietly, and the two football players took her empty book case downstairs, then her dresser. Within twenty minutes, all of her things were inside and they hauled her stuff downstairs. Her father said, "Put the house key by the door" and resumed drinking his whiskey.

She took it off the ring and put it on the table and her mother drank another glass of wine, and then hugged her, Rachel, Puck, and the two boys who'd moved her things, Mike and Matt.

Judy held Rachel's face between her hands and ran her thumbs over Rachel's cheekbones, "Take care of my baby, please."

Rachel nodded, face serious, "Yes, ma'am."

When they were outside, the three football players approached Finn, but Rachel got there first, slapping him so hard everyone winced.

Her voice was quiet but furious, "Are you a complete and utter idiot?"

His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his pink cheek, "I'm sorry. I just, I thought it was time. We've had the sonogram, and we're making plans and –"

"This was not your call to make," Quinn told him. "I told you no, and you went ahead and said it anyways. How am I supposed to raise a baby with you and this is how you respond to important stuff? I can't trust you, Finn."

Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I thought –"

Puck scoffed, "Whatever, dude. Don't expect me to block for you in practice, or The Wonder Twins." Obviously, he was referring to Mike and Matt.

"Where are you staying?" Mike asked her softly.

Finn said, hurriedly, "Please, move in with me, I promise I'll do better, I'll take care of you."

"You could stay with me," Rachel replied quietly.

They turned to her and Quinn could see the sincerity in her. She wanted to help Quinn, really did, but this was going to blow up in their faces. Rachel deserved more than this, right now. Let her take out her negative feelings on Finn and save the good, sweet parts for Rachel. Besides, she wasn't sure if she could stomach hurting Rachel more; already, she had thawed, being polite to people she normally wouldn't have looked twice at and crying on her shoulder. She was like Frosty, but the magical hat kept unraveling as she tried to fix it.

"I'll stay with Finn," She finally decided. Rachel's jaw clenched and her mouth thinned, but she didn't respond. Puck wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they turned to the truck and Finn's mother's car. They drove to the Hudson house in silence, and Carole's face was tired and sad when she saw them.

She hugged all of the teenagers and kissed Quinn's forehead. "The basement's empty," She said. The boys took the furniture downstairs and Rachel and Quinn took the bags with clothes. Finn lugged the books. Rachel, the three boys, and Quinn set her room up. Rachel looked around and then sniffed the air a little.

"You'll need an air purifier, it smells stale," Rachel said kindly. "I have an extra at home; I'll bring it to you tomorrow."

"Thank you," Quinn said, and hugged Rachel again. She smiled a little and kissed her on her neck before leaving, each of the boys giving her a small hug as well. Puck hesitated, and then ruffled her hair. "Sorry, Fabray, but I really can't hug you."

He exited as well, leaving her and Finn.

Finn opened his mouth when she said, "Leave. I'd like to be alone."

He nodded, and Quinn threw herself onto her bed in tears. This day couldn't have gone any worse at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Author's note: Sorry this took so long! I just finished it, and I thought that I may as well post it.

Chapter 9 –

The Hudson's didn't go to church. That might not seem like a big deal to most people, but Quinn had gone to church every Sunday no matter what time, date, or condition she was in. She'd actually tried, and Mrs. Hudson had driven her, but apparently, the news had spread quickly, and the looks she got just in the parking lot were so harsh Mrs. Hudson had asked, softly, "Would you prefer to go home?" Quinn almost started crying. She knew, logically, that Mrs. Hudson simply meant her home, where Finn was still asleep, but her initial thought had been for her childhood home, where she wasn't even allowed on the front lawn, damn the actual house. Instead, Quinn stayed quiet, and sniffled a little from the remnants of her cold, in the seat and Carole drove them back.

Mrs. Hudson made pancakes while she laid on her bed, still in her good dress and heels, burying her face in her arms. She laid there until the pancakes were done, when she changed into jeans and a t-shirt and headed upstairs, sneezing twice on the steps. Carole looked tired, exhausted really, but she gave Quinn a friendly smile at seeing her again and said, "Go ahead and eat, honey, you'll need your strength."

Quinn nodded, sneezed, and took two pancakes before asking, "Is Finn coming down soon?"

Carole chuckled, "Not before noon, and he'll complain about being hungry for sure."

She nodded and cut her pancakes up before pouring a light amount of syrup on them. She wasn't much of a syrup person, and suddenly remembered the fruit sauce Rachel had put on her deflated pancake cup things. Rachel had told her last night that she would bring her an air purifier for the room, but it was still early. She'd just have to wait to talk to her.

After pancakes, Carole took her dishes and washed them. She shooed Quinn away when she attempted to help, so Quinn went downstairs and finally examined her room. She'd been too embarrassed and distraught last night to do much more than take off her clothes and fall asleep.

Now, she could see that there were two small, high windows, and the concrete floor was cool and dry. The basement did have a bit of a dank feel to it, and what little light there was felt diluted and weak, almost artificial in a way. The water heater was in the opposite corner of her bed and various pipes ran along the ceiling and downwards to the floor. A fridge looked like it'd seen better days, but when she looked inside, saw that it was clean, bare, and plugged in. Maybe she would bring snacks down here or something so she wasn't intruding on them so much. She opened one of the windows to clear the room out a little and shivered at the invasion of cold air, then sneezed again. Quinn rubbed her arms and then moved to get a sweater out of her bags, before she put her clothes in the drawer, and set up her computer on the desk the boys had brought in. Starting the computer showed that the Hudson's didn't have wireless internet, but the neighbors did, and it was unprotected.

Quinn was organizing her books when there was a knock on the door, and Carole peeked in before saying, "You have a visitor."

Rachel appeared with a heater and an air purifier in her arms, the air purifier on top of the heavier machine. Carole closed the door after her and Rachel descended carefully. She had on khaki pants and a purple Oxford, sleeves rolled up to the crooks of her elbows again. There was something rolled up and tucked into the back of her khakis. As much as Puck talked about his guns, the subtle muscles of Rachel's forearms held her fascination more. Rachel put the machines down carefully and then gave Quinn a beaming smile. Quinn smiled back and kissed her forehead. Kissing her cheek would probably lead to kissing her mouth, and the last thing she needed was for Finn or Carole to come in and see them kissing.

Rachel didn't seem to have any of those reservations, and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Quinn's mouth. Rachel threaded her fingers through Quinn's hair and scratched her scalp with her short nails. Quinn moaned and found herself responding, forgetting her want to keep them secret. The blonde pushed herself away, hearing a thump from upstairs. They were in Carole's house, the mother of her boyfriend, and Carole and Finn were both sure that the baby was Finn's.

The brunette made a soft, whining sound, and Quinn pecked her lips again, and then said, "Stop, Finn and Carole are right upstairs."

Rachel gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry, I just didn't get to kiss you yesterday. How are you today?"

The blonde smiled at her, "its okay. I'm doing okay, I set everything up, and it would be more than okay if I could get rid of this stupid-"

Quinn sneezed, so suddenly she couldn't even cover her mouth and nose, and slammed her eyes shut in mortification before she said almost silently, "Cold."

Rachel was quiet, and then said, voice strangled, "I'm starting to see why. Excuse me momentarily as I wash my face and obtain some cold medicine from Mrs. Hudson."

The brunette went upstairs and rubbed her face and the blonde sneezed again. Quinn plugged the air purifier in and closed her window. The air would take some time to clear out, and she dragged the heater to sit next to it, and then moved it farther away. The last thing she needed was a fire. She could hear sounds from upstairs, and then the hiss of the pipes as water pumped through. She flopped onto her bed and sneezed into her arm. There was another short hiss, and Quinn covered her mouth as she sneezed again and closed her eyes, somehow feeling exhausted. Rachel thumped downstairs and handed her the medicine. Quinn sat up and thanked her, pouring it into the cap and drinking it with a grimace before setting it back down. Rachel's face was scrubbed pink, even with the weak lights, and there was a little water caught on her eyebrows and lashes.

Rachel took her shoes off, climbed in the bed to lie next to Quinn, and Quinn wiped the water off with her thumbs. "You're like a little kid," She murmured. "You've always got something on your face."

The brunette blushed. "Sorry. I don't mean to, but I don't notice -"

Quinn laughed. "It's okay. Promise. It just seems to happen a lot."

Rachel gave her another of her spectacular grins, and Quinn found herself forgetting about Carole and Finn, kissing her small, left dimple. Rachel wiggled a little and Quinn undid one of the bottom buttons of her shirt to give her a little more room. Her finger brushed along the hot skin of her lower abdomen, with no hint of hair at all and outstandingly warm.

"Thank you," Rachel said, and adjusted herself so that her head was on Quinn's chest. Her hair smelled like raspberries instead of watermelon and she said quietly, "You should read to me."

Quinn puffed playfully, "Really? I don't need you falling asleep on me, big head."

"Shut up, Dumbo. I like your voice and it's good for the baby."

Quinn scowled, pleased with Rachel's remark because when someone with a voice as spectacular as Rachel told you your voice was nice, you took it, but annoyed at the nickname.

"Don't call me Dumbo."

"Don't call me big head."

Quinn smirked, "E.T."

"Bugs Bunny."

"Jimmy Neutron."

"Despereaux."

Quinn stared down at her. "Really?"

Rachel protested, "He was the first one I could think of."

"There are a zillion characters with big ears and **that** was the first one you could think of?"

"Well, I wasn't going to call you Will Smith."

Quinn laughed a little, and then said, "Fine. Go pick a book so I can read it."

Rachel stood up, examined the bookshelf, and brought her a thick book, one she had never actually read, but had meant to. Rachel passed her _"East of Eden" _and then went back to her original position, so her head was on Quinn's chest and her knees were pressed to her side. Rachel sighed into her chest, then swung her leg over one of Quinn's, and put her right arm over Quinn's stomach, before she said, triumphantly, "There!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Rachel nuzzled her collarbone and her thumb rubbed circles over Quinn's belly before asking, voice hesitant, "Is it okay if I talk to the baby before we start reading? I know that it's an intense invasion of pri-"

"Rachel," She interrupted. "You've performed cunnilingus on me. We're having a baby. I think we can stop worrying about either of us invading each other's privacy when we're alone. It's not like you're fondling me in public."

"Fine," She huffed. "I suppose you have a point. I'd still like to ask your permission before certain things, however."

"Okay," Quinn conceded. She couldn't help smiling as Rachel moved so her head was on top of Quinn's stomach, then lifted her shirt and spoke gently. Quinn couldn't hear her, but she could feel the soft warmth of her breath and a short intake of cold breath before she felt the heat again. She ran her fingers through Rachel's hair and pressed her lips together when Rachel kissed her belly button before going back to her leg thrown over Quinn's and her hand on her bared stomach.

"Finished?" Quinn asked. Her voice was gentle.

Rachel nodded and cleared her throat. "Yes."

Quinn opened her book and started to read softly, _"The Salinas Valley is in Northern California. It is a long narrow swale between two ranges of mountains, and the Salinas River winds and twists up the center until it falls at last into Monterey Bay._

"_I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer—and what trees and seasons smelled like—how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich._

"_I remember that the Gabilan Mountains to the east of the valley were light, gay-"_ She paused, and looked down at Rachel's shaking shoulders, "Really?"

She waved a hand, "Sorry. It was just – I didn't expect it, it didn't seem like a very extravagant prose oriented book when I picked it out."

Quinn gave her a sour look, received a sunny smile in return, and continued,_ "Mountains_ _full of sun and loveliness and a kind of invitation, so that you wanted to climb into their warm foothills almost as you want to climb into the lap of a beloved mother. They were beckoning mountains with a brown grass love. The Santa Lucias stood up against the sky to the west and kept the valley from the open sea, and they were dark and brooding—unfriendly and dangerous. I always found in myself a dread of west and a love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say, unless it could be that the morning came over the peaks of the Gabilans and the night drifted back from the ridges of the Santa Lucias. It may be that the birth and death of the day had some part in my feeling about the two ranges of mountains."_

They read the first and second chapters before Finn came down to the cellar. Rachel moved at the first sound and sat up so there wouldn't be any suspicion. Quinn smoothed her shirt down. Rachel pulled the rolled-up paper from her back pocket and straightened it out to reveal an X-Men comic. Finn's hair was messy and his face sleep-filled before he broke out into a grin.

"Hi Quinn, Rachel," He said. "What're you doing here?"

Rachel never lifted her head as she answered, "Visiting Quinn. I thought she might need some cheering up after your stunt last night."

Finn winced and his smile dimmed, "Oh. Um. I thought everyone was okay with that. Things turned out fine."

Rachel's voice was icy, and Quinn felt chilled at her tone. "Finn, you somehow managed to get Quinn kicked out of her house for what might be permanently, deprived the baby of a set of grandparents, and have her now living in a basement within the space of one poorly written song."

He shrank back from her and gaped uselessly before his mother stuck her head down the stairs and said, "Finnegan James Hudson! You leave Quinn and Rachel alone and eat your breakfast. Matt and Mike called and said they were cancelling your Halo tournament, whatever that is. That means you can finish your homework."

"Oh, mom," He whined, but a look at Rachel made him start to scurry up the steps. Rachel took the medicine and said, "Catch," before throwing the bottle and the cap at him. They landed directly in his hands, and he went up the stairs. The door gave a heavy thump as it closed. Rachel stretched and Quinn wondered how, exactly, someone just over five feet managed to occupy so much space.

Rachel yawned, covering her mouth, and then grumbled, "We have school tomorrow."

Quinn swallowed, "Yeah." She didn't look at Rachel, but said, "I'm a little nervous. What if people know that I got kicked out?"

Rachel spoke plainly, but her mouth was tight and her eyes were in the corner of the room, showing her displeasure in the topic. "Then they'll know. I know Noah, Michael, Matthew, and I will definitely support you and us, "She paused, "well, they intend to make sure you aren't bullied. I'll try to become a larger target, I suppose." Her mouth relaxed into a sort of half-smile, half-grimace, as she said, "A little less sixteen candles, a little more touch me."

Rachel startled them both into laughter before Quinn said, "I didn't know you liked Fall Out Boy."

Rachel shrugged, "Noah listens to them a lot, and I've acquired some affection for them by proxy. I prefer Folie à Deux more than their other albums."

Quinn replied, "I've never listened to their albums, I just heard some of their songs on the radio."

"Would you like to borrow them?" Rachel asked. "I'd be more than happy to bring them to you tomorrow."

Quinn agreed and Rachel put her comic back, only for the tinny sound of music through a small speaker came from her pocket. She answered, "Hello?"

The words were muffled and Rachel got off the bed as she spoke in Hebrew again, pacing briefly in her little ankle socks, before she finally said, "Alright abba-leh, bye."

Rachel visibly pouted at her as she put her phone back in her pocket. "I'm getting picked up by my cousin. Grammy wants to see us."

Quinn snickered, "Grammy?"

Her ears turned red, "Shut up, I didn't start it."

"Right," Quinn said skeptically.

Rachel rolled her eyes and the blush faded from her ears as she approached Quinn's bed and kissed her cheek very gently. "I assure you, it was not me. However, I still fear her wrath so I should be going."

Quinn nodded at her, and pulled her by a wrist until Rachel was close enough that they could properly kiss goodbye. She kept her side of the kiss soft and gentle, just so that Rachel could really leave at some point. The brunette's mouth was a little dry but not chapped, and gave her a series of small, closed mouth kisses that were closer to pecks than anything else. Rachel pulled away, pecked her on her nose, and then said, quickly, "I've always liked your nose, I hope the baby gets that particular feature."

Quinn's mouth flickered into a smile, "Only my nose?"

Rachel didn't smile back. "And your eyes, and your mouth, and your hair, and even your big, bat ears."

The blonde looked down at her hands. "Didn't we have this discussion before?"

"And your everything," Rachel continued. "I'd be more than happy if the baby was exactly like you."

Quinn blinked, eyes itchy, "I wouldn't be. I'm not some idealization of the perfect person, Rachel." She licked her lips, feeling a sudden urge of honesty because why not, what else did she have to lose, sitting in an used basement of the boy she was lying too and half the time couldn't stand, "I'm dishonest and sad and selfish and hurtful and the sooner you find that out, the less likely I am to disappoint you like I do everyone else."

Rachel protested weakly, "I never said you were."

"But you were thinking it," The blonde insisted. "And that's even worse because I can't counteract your thoughts. You're a better person than I am, Rachel-"

"No, I'm not," The brunette said softly, "I'm no better."

Quinn sat up, loudly speaking, "Yes, you are! Because anyone else would have abandoned me, bI/b would have left me! I would have said, 'That bitch got what she deserved, let her deal.' I'd have driven me to an abortion clinic, Hell or high water, and the only reasons I didn't is because of time and how damned selfish I am."

Rachel's throat bopped but she only stared at Quinn, dark eyes wide, unflinching.

"I didn't drive myself because I was afraid of my parents finding out, fat lot of good that did me, if I took too long, and some part of me kept saying, 'This will be the only person that loves you unconditionally, how could you do that to yourself.'"

Quinn scrubbed at her eyes, feeling her cheeks stiffen with salt. She didn't even know she'd started crying. "Do you see now? I'm a terrible, lonely, disgusting person and –"

"You're human," Rachel said flatly. "I'll admit to – to having a few thoughts here and there that you were better than me, that you were more, somehow, and that was the reason you seemed to delight so much in tearing me down without showing guilt, and hurting me the way you did, the way you did yesterday even, after Finn was an ass. I – " She scratched at her upper lip, then continued, halfway babbling, "I never thought of you as a bitch because I kept remembering the girl in elementary school that shared her lunch with me when the other kids would throw mine away, or my abba-leh would forget. Everyone wants to be loved, and if you're selfish, than I'm selfish, and so is everyone else in the world."

Her cell phone rang again, this time with a text, and she said, after reading it, voice subdued, "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed Quinn on her cheek, then another kiss, almost nonexistent, on her mouth, then placed her head on Quinn's stomach, spoke quietly, and lifted her shirt to press a kiss to her flat abdomen. Rachel put her shoes back on, rolled the comic up, and went up the stairs with a small wave.

Quinn rolled onto her side and sighed into her pillow. The inevitable was coming, although she kept trying to push it off. Finn was safe, for now at least. As unfair as it was, having him believe that the baby was his, it was safer than the slushy's turning into getting harassed for being with Rachel, or getting thrown in dumpsters, or being pushed in halls. The end of the first trimester was when she aimed to tell him. Then again, she'd aimed to tell him before she got kicked out.

Let Rachel have her peace now, let her have a place away from Quinn to keep her insecurities and sadness and hope before they were sharing a house, and possibly a room, and most definitely the disappointment of Rachel's fathers. Gerard was a sweet man, from what she'd seen, but there was only so much that anyone could take. This would be beyond hurtful, a secret and a grandchild what? At least ten years too soon from the wrong girl. There would be a rift in that family, one way or another, and Quinn knew it would be her fault, no matter what platitudes Rachel would try to give her.

She wrapped her arms around her abdomen and snuggled into the pillows. They smelled like home – flour, clean clothes, the feel of sunlight on a cool day – and she turned over, closer to the wall, so the scent of the wall kept her grounded. The worst part of everything was over with; her rejection was finalized. Quinn unwrapped herself and headed upstairs. The kitchen was empty and so was the living room. A look around the living room showed pictures of Finn at various ages and one of Carole and his father, a broader, older version of Finn, in military dress. There was laundry piled on the couch and after a moment, Quinn started to sort through the clothes. It was the least she could do for Carole, at least for the next month or so.

After that, the pregnancy would have progressed far enough that short of being assaulted, she would be fine. McKinley had bullies, but they weren't that terrible. She could expect some scathing remarks, maybe another locker being ruined, as many slushy's as possible, which would be numbered in the upcoming winter, and most of it was stuff the other kids in Glee had already experienced. The Cheerios wouldn't stick around for her, but maybe the Glee kids would. Matt and Mike had already moved her things in, Puck had refrained from being a complete and utter jerk; there were Brittany and Santana to consider, and the little gothic ninth grader, Tina, didn't completely hate her.

Quinn folded the clothes absent-mindedly, sorting them into piles of light, dark, and colored. She was nearly finished when Carole entered the room and gave her a surprised look, "Sweetie, you didn't have to do that." There was no way she was going to be a free loader after everything else she'd put them through; even if it was just simple things like washing dishes or folding laundry.

Quinn gave her a shy look, "I wanted to do something for you. I mean, I'm definitely inconveniencing you and Finn, so I thought that maybe –"

Carole smiled at her gently and walked over to the couch, then sat next to her, "Quinn, you didn't have to fold the laundry. You are more than welcome here, and just like Finn doesn't have to do anything but keep his grades up, you don't have to do anything but keep your grades up."

Quinn blinked away tears. She was a complete emotional wreck today. "But I'm extra," She said softly. "You don't have to take care of me, and I think I should earn my keep."

Carole shook her head. "Quinn, honey. I'm the parent in the relationship, and it's up to me to make sure Finn is taken care of and you, now that you're living with us. You aren't any more extra than if one of my nieces or nephews came to visit."

Finally, Quinn nodded, "Okay." That didn't mean she wasn't going to clean up after herself, and plausibly Finn. It was the very least she could do, after lying to both of them. Still, it would only be about three more weeks. She could make it.

Possibly.

Hopefully.

She took a shower to clear her head and stumbled downstairs the same time Finn was heading up. His neatly folded clothes were pressed to his chest, wrinkling them, and Quinn held in a sigh. The staircase wasn't narrow, but their shoulders rubbed against one another on the way. Quinn was almost on the ground floor when he called out, "Quinn?"

She turned and he said, looking down at his feet, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I just thought – you know, that they'd support us and be proud of you for doing this on your own."

Quinn massaged the back of her neck. "Finn, that didn't work last night, didn't work this morning, and won't work now. We both screwed up and we're paying the price."

His mouth trembled but he finally nodded and went to his room.

She felt human now, refreshed, after her shower, and saw that both Brittany and Santana had called. She called Brittany first.

"Hi, Quinn," Brittany said cheerfully.

She smiled, "Hi, Britt. How're you?"

"Better than you," The other blonde stated plainly, but without meanness, "Mike told me that your parents kicked you out. San and I were just going to watch Bring It On since she skipped Mass."

Quinn heard Santana's voice in the background, and then Brittany asked, "Do you want to come and watch it with us?"

Quinn thought about it. It would make her seem ungrateful, likely, to just get up and leave her first official day, but she felt terrible taking up space in their home. At least she knew she'd be welcome there. Well, almost welcome. Santana and Brittany tended to have special time together on Sundays, just them, so she declined. Being on Santana's shit list was not on her to do list.

Brittany didn't sound surprised, "Okay. I just wanted to see if you were okay with everything."

She smiled, "I'm okay."

"And how's the baby?" Brittany asked.

"The baby's fine," Quinn said. "I had an ultrasound Friday, and he or she's growing up just right."

She sighed softly, "That's good. I mean, so long as the baby's not Jewish."

Quinn froze. "What?"

"Yeah, I saw it on TV. Something about how small the population was and inbreeding and stuff led to, like, sickness or whatever. Like with cats."

Quinn felt more than heard herself say, "Oh."

She'd have to talk to Rachel about that immediately. She clenched a fist and listened to Brittany talk for a while. Brittany had a low monotone that soothed her for the most part. She could always tell when something was exciting or unexpected in her stories.

She rubbed her eyes and felt the intense urge to nap, then realized it was just after noon. Brittany was winding down, so she said, "That's great, B. I'm going to let you and Santana watch your movie, okay?"

"Okay Quinn," the other girl said. "See you. Bye, baby."

Quinn chuckled, sneezed, and put her phone down.

That was another thing: how long could she reasonably expect to still have her phone on? How would she get back from school? Finn had practice every day, and the Hudson's house was farther than her own, straddling the district line of Jefferson and McKinley, too far to walk when bullies lurked around after school. Carole, she knew from Finn, worked until almost six most nights. Brittany and Santana had Cheerios, which lasted as late as Coach Sylvester could hold them, and Rachel didn't drive. Even if she could drive, the girl was in so many clubs it'd be a miracle if she left before five, two and a half hours after school was finished. The bus covered most of the main roads, but she'd still have a fair distance to walk. And even if she had a car, what about gas? It was almost two dollars a gallon, something she couldn't feasibly pay while pregnant, unemployed, and homeless.

Quinn sighed and laid on her bed. This was bordering on ridiculous, and she made up a list of what she needed to do in her head.

1) She had to tell Finn the truth, soon

2) She and Rachel needed a plan of how to get out of Lima after high school, baby in tow

3) They needed to talk about the likelihood of having a sick baby, how that would affect them and him or her.

Those were the important things, and rapidly becoming clearer as she dragged her feet. She sat up and looked in her book bag. She skipped over the notes and pulled her textbooks out to finish her homework. There was no way she was going to let this affect her GPA.

Even with the two windows, the basement was still dark, and she turned on the lamp in the corner to give herself more light about halfway through. Exhaustion clung to her afterwards, and she settled into her bed for a short nap. Next thing she knew, Carole was patting her awake. Seeing that her eyes were open, Carole smiled, "It's time for dinner. Are you hungry?"

Quinn nodded and covered her mouth while she yawned. Carole's eyes were still on her while she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She said softly, "You'll have a gorgeous baby."

Quinn smiled faintly. She knew Carole was referring to Finn, but she could only think of Rachel, cooing down at the baby.

They went into the kitchen and Quinn ate without really tasting anything. She was sure it was good, as Finn had seconds, but she missed her parents acutely now, for all the coldness Russell had shown her. He hadn't been the best father, but he wasn't the worst. She swallowed dryly, drank the last of her water, and asked, "May I be excused?"

Carole let her go and Quinn flopped onto her bed. She fell asleep shortly afterwards, and got dressed for school the next morning. Carole left for work early but there was toast and eggs for them, keeping warm in the oven. She ate before Finn, and left most of it for him. Ten minutes before school started he barreled downstairs, put the eggs between the toast as a sandwich, and they got in the back of one of the football players cars. She couldn't remember which one it was, and all he said was, "Dude," in acknowledgement of them both. She was almost certain he'd tossed Kurt in the dumpster once or twice

It was cooler than the day before, almost jacket weather, she noticed, and the sky was cloudless and bright. As soon as they entered the school, the football player slunk away, and Finn and Quinn were hit with slushy's. Quinn wiped it from her eyes, and headed towards the bathroom. When she was clean and had changed clothes; Finn was by the door, and she walked with him, just ahead. It was only a few steps before she found herself pushed hard against a locker. She looked up to see Dave Karofsky's smirking face.

"Skank," He said loudly, and walked away. Quinn flushed in embarrassment, seeing a few people laughing, and hunched her shoulders as she walked towards her first period.

She never made it.

There was a big group of kids gathered in a circle by her first period and the fighting kids in the middle were Dave Karofsky and Rachel. She held in a whimper. Rachel was going to be killed; he dwarfed her by at least a foot and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, likely a hundred and fifty.

They were screaming at each other, but not in English, and he pushed her chest. She was pushed backwards, into the crowd, and when she exited, she tackled him. They were on the floor, suddenly, rolling. The crowd wouldn't budge for her and helpless tears were gathering in her eyes when Quinn said, "Finn, go help!"

He stood next to her, mouth gaping open.

"Finn!"

He lumbered forwards, startled by the command, but Puck and Matt were already pulling them apart. Matt had lifted Rachel clear off the ground. There was already a bruise forming around her eye and her lip was busted, dripping blood onto her blue sweater. Her ear was bright red. Karofsky had scratch marks across his cheeks and neck and he hissed when Puck pressed against his chest.

Mr. Schuester and Ms. Hutcherson parted the crowd and she said, breathlessly, "Office. Now."

Karofsky snatched himself from Puck and Matt put Rachel down carefully before they were frog-marched to the office. They both made sounds at the grip to their upper arms. The crowd murmured. The last time many of them had seen a physical fight between a boy and a girl had likely been elementary school. A few teachers came out to control the chaos, but soon gave up. Considering Mr. Schuester was her first period, she doubted there would be much done. Finn touched her shoulder, and she turned to him when Ms. Hutcherson appeared and said, "You two come with me."

There were too many people for the principal's office, apparently, and instead they were in a conference room. All of the tables but one had been pushed to the side. Karofsky and Rachel were sitting in front of Mr. Figgins. Rachel had a balled up napkin pressed to her mouth and the nurse was applying antiseptic to Karofsky's scratches. They stared ahead with murder in their eyes.

The principal saw them and made a gesture. They approached and he asked, "Do either of you know what happened?"

They shook their heads.

"Are you sure?" Figgins asked. "Because this seems to be about you, young lady."

Quinn hesitated, then said, "Karofsky pushed me into a locker and called me a skank this morning. That's all I know."

Figgins bent down and wrote it on a notepad quickly.

"Is this true?" He asked Karofsky.

Karofsky's jaw tightened but he didn't say anything.

"Did you see them fight?" He asked them.

They nodded.

"Who started it?"

"Karofsky pushed Rachel first," Finn told him.

He wrote that down as well, and then asked, "Did Rachel go find a teacher or attempt to look for one?"

Rachel stayed silent.

"No," Quinn replied.

Finn added, "She got pushed into the crowd, and when she came out she sorta – tackled him. Then they were on the floor and rolling around. Puck – Noah Puckerman and Matt Rutherford pulled them apart."

Figgins nodded, wrote it down, then said, "Mr. Karofsky, Miss Berry, I'm calling your parents."

They both sat up, "No!"

His eyes widened, then went back to normal, "There's no arguing about it. I'm calling your parents and they'll come in for a conference. You're both getting three days outdoor suspension."

"Shit," Karofsky muttered.

"Four, Mr. Karofsky," the principal said. "There's a strict profanity ban."

"Then so should Noah and Santana," Rachel argued. "I greatly dislike David-"

"Right back atcha, freak."

She ignored him, "But fair is fair."

"Four for you as well," Figgins said. "Back talk is discouraged."

Rachel glared at him.

Figgins called the office on the PA and said, "Please contact Mr. Dave Karofsky's parents and Miss Rachel Berry's parents."

There was a short pause before one of the secretaries said, "Rachel is her preferred name, right?"

Rachel nodded, tightlipped again. Her ear appeared to be puffing up and the nurse gave her an ice packet. "Yes," The principal said.

There was a longer pause, at least three minutes, before the secretary said, "Mr. Karofsky will be here in five minutes, and one of the Mr. Berry's will be here shortly. Jeremiah, I believe."

Rachel paled rapidly.

Both of them started to shiver lightly.

Figgins told Quinn and Finn, "Take a seat, young lady. Young man, you can go on to class."

Finn left and Quinn sat quietly for almost five minutes before the men entered the room. Both of them were tall, at least Finn's height, broad, and White, which was were the similarities ended.

One of them reminded her of Russell; he was wearing a suit and tie with neat, gray hair and a small goatee. He put one large hand on Karofsky's shoulder, but it was gentle.

The other, obviously Jeremiah Berry, looked as if he'd just woken up. His jeans were wrinkled and he wore a plain green t-shirt and paint splattered boots. His hair was red, with sandy spots, and around his ears, one of which had small studs from his lobe to the top; there were tattoos on his bare arms and chest. He glanced at her with very blue eyes, then turned to Rachel where he said, in a deep, accented voice, "Spencer Broadhurst Berry, what did you do?"

Her voice was meek, "Hi, abba-leh."


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Author's note: I know this took me a week longer but all I have to say is: I get up at one and I'm back asleep at one. I have issues with time management, okay?

Chapter 10 –

Principal Figgins folded his hands, "Mr. Karofsky and Miss Berry were involved in a physical altercation on school grounds. McKinley High has a zero fighting policy, and they've both been assigned outdoor suspension for four days."

"Four?" The fathers asked at the same time. They glanced at one another, and Mr. Karofsky said, "I have a job and so does his mother, and I don't feel comfortable leaving him in the house by himself, he's only sixteen. Can't we make it indoor, if he has to have suspension?"

Quinn was surprised that neither father protested that their child was in a fight. Her father would have insisted that his daughter wasn't in a fight and that it must have been a miscommunication.

Figgins shook his head, "I'm afraid not. The student handbook states that all fighting leads to a three day outdoors suspension. Their actions in this room have led to an extra day."

Jeremiah balled up a hand and put his fist on his hip. There was a tattoo on his forearm of a whale that bulged with his movements. He was fairly muscular, she saw. Not the bulky muscles that Puck had, but the muscles that came from someone who engaged in practical labor. "And what about the bullying my child has experienced? When we enrolled her here, you assured us she'd have a tolerant learning environment and that bullying would not be allowed."

He cleared his throat, "We can only stop bullying that we don't see if there aren't any reports filed."

Rachel opened her mouth, and then closed it after her father gave her a look. Quinn knew the look and reclined in her seat. It was obvious she was here for something, she just didn't know what.

Jeremiah continued, "What do you mean don't see? From the parking lot to here I saw at least two cases of physical bullying and one of verbal."

"Those students haven't filed reports, so we cannot take it seriously. Children horse around all the time."

Mr. Karofsky interrupted him, "Be that as it may, I'd like to discuss my son's actions. They had a fight, am I correct? Where are the other students involved?"

"They fought each other," Figgins clarified. "I have eye witness testimonies from two teachers, three male students, and the young lady behind you."

The men turned around. Quinn gave them a weak smile and they smiled back. Mr. Karofsky had dimples; Jeremiah didn't. Neither of Rachel's fathers did, so her biological mother must have them.

Mr. Schuester and Mrs. Hutcherson gave their accounts quickly, and they matched. They'd seen the crowd and tried to disperse it, only to find David and Rachel fighting. They'd immediately brought them to the principal.

"Who started the altercation?" Jeremiah asked. His hand had moved from Rachel's shoulder to petting her head. His hand was so big it covered the back of her head and his skin was startlingly pale against her hair. He had neat fingernails, and he scratched from the nape of her head to the top. She wasn't sure which one of them relaxed more at the touch.

"David," Figgins said. "He pushed her chest. They get the same number of days because she didn't try to leave or find a teacher."

Jeremiah's mouth fell open and he spoke indignantly, "Are you serious? He's twice her size!"

"Like David doesn't have scratch marks all over him."

"Have you seen the size of my daughter's ear? How do I know she won't go deaf sometime in the future?"

"And his face? Who knows what she has under her nails."

Rachel's ear was getting puffier and his scratches had gone from pink to red. The two men bickered for a while.

"Okay," Mr. Karofsky eventually said. "What about the young lady back there?"

"Quinn is one of our most excellent students," Figgins said. "David apparently pushed her and called her a name, which led to this altercation."

"David, is this true?" His father demanded. "Apologize to the young lady."

"Sorry, Fa - Quinn," He gritted out.

She smiled sweetly, "Apology accepted, Dave."

"Spencer," Jeremiah said, "You were defending her? It's not an issue, but normally you don't get involved in quarrels."

Rachel's response was low, "She's pregnant."

Mr. Karofsky's face became pinched, "We're going to have a discussion about this when we get home, young man, and your mother as well." Karofsky paled further.

Jeremiah's hand had stilled briefly, but he was petting Rachel again before he told Principal Figgins, "I'd like to schedule an appointment for later in the week to talk about the bullying I see going around. As a concerned parent, I think I speak for all of us that want our children treated with the respect they deserve."

"Of course. Just stop in with the secretary. The suspension starts tomorrow, although if you take them home now, we won't stop you."

Quinn was trying to figure out what the purpose of her being in the office even was when everyone stood up and left, and she scrambled up as well. Mr. Karofsky was escorted back to the main office, David in tow.

Standing in the hall, Jeremiah was even more of a contrast to Rachel. One of his huge hands was on her head again and they were talking quietly before he pinched her cheek, glanced at Quinn and said, "And who's your friend, darling?"

Quinn walked closer and Rachel took her hand to pull her even closer. "Abba-leh, this is Quinn Fabray. Quinn, Jeremiah Berry."

He took her hand. Much like Rachel, her hand disappeared in his palm. He had warm hands and there were flecks of paint on them. The paint was the same color, a mint green, as his jeans. Seeing where she was looking, his mouth crinkled into a bright smile, "Sorry, I'm painting my store. Luckily I was home today."

They let go and then his eyes narrowed a little, "Fabray? As in Russell Fabray?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir. He's my –" She hesitated. Russell had kicked her out with no regrets. Was there really any call to say that he was her father? Quinn took the plunge, "He's my father."

Jeremiah's smile stayed in place, even if it managed to convey some of his distaste on his mild face. That was okay; the longer she was away, the most distasteful she found Russell as well.

"He's an interesting man. I've met him a few times."

Quinn didn't ask him where, and he turned to Rachel.

"Come, Spencer, we have to get you to Dr. Isles about that ear."

"Yes, abba-leh." Rachel smiled at her, "I'll see you later, Quinn."

"Bye," Quinn stated and wiggled her fingers in a hint of a wave as they left. The bell for third period rang and students spilled out of the classes. For once, no one pointed at her or whispered. She went to Brittany's locker to get her things, and then remembered Rachel telling her about the CDs. There were four of them in little paper CD covers, and a little sticky note on top read in Rachel's loopy handwriting, "'Evening Out With Your Girlfriend' is generally not considered an album." Quinn put them away with a small smile.

Class was, as always, boring and simple. Matt claimed he had enough time between the end of school and the beginning of practice to drive her home, so that was convenient. They never talked. The same football player dropped her and Finn off every morning. The week passed quickly but slowly, as it was the end of the grading period. Her report cared would have all A's with no one to show them to. The week edged forwards at some points, lonely for Rachel without it being an acute ache, not really, and a transcending boredom at the Hudson's.

Santana and Brittany called, which saved her from Finn being her primary source of companionship. Mike and Matt proved protection, just as Rachel had said. A part of her assumed they did for her what they couldn't do for Rachel. Neither of them talked to her casually, except to ask if she needed something or if she was feeling bad. They even claimed a table one day and demanded that she sit with them.

Their protectiveness did not go unnoticed. Soon, rumors floated around. She was having Mike's baby; the baby was Matt's; she was having twins and both of them were the fathers. The idea of having twins made her squeamish. There weren't any twins on her side but God only knew about Rachel's family. One baby seemed hard enough, but two would wreck her.

Rachel was also on severe punishment. There were no texts or calls, no MySpace or YouTube updates. She didn't come to school to collect her work, and Puck wasn't allowed to visit, he said. As far as anyone could tell, Rachel had been separated from all of society.

Rachel and Karofsky returned the next Monday, mostly healed. Karofsky blinked in all of the lights and constantly rubbed his eyes, paler than he normally was. Rachel was darker than Santana, even though the temperatures had dropped almost fifteen degrees in the week. She explained at lunch.

"Abba-leh decided that the house needed painting. And the shed. And his shop. And the neighbor's house.."

She rubbed her shoulders and rolled them to relieve tension.

Mike asked, "Isn't that child labor?"

She grimaced, "Not when it's under forty hours. Besides, it was either that or no Barbra for the week."

Quinn resigned herself to the fact that Barbra took precedence over 90% of Rachel's life and hoped she didn't go into labor anywhere near Barbra Streisand.

Although she was grateful for the table, she missed her quiet time with Rachel. It was obvious in Rachel's kisses as well, when they could sneak them in. Her kisses were always eager, always anticipating and long and so good – so warm and soft and willing, all the gentlest touches of her tongue and the tang of her mouth – which made her wonder at nights, half shamefully and the other half relentless of what she tasted like between her thighs. Not just her penis, either, but the vagina she'd spoken of once, and if the soft skin of her thighs felt the same as her hands and lips.

Still, their talks never strayed past the chaste. They talked about their days and music, and Quinn laughed at finding out that Rachel had made her a mix available online.

"Is your whole life music?" Quinn asked her.

Rachel hummed, "You know, I think so, actually. I watched musicals as a toddler, there was always music on around the house, Papa sang me to sleep."

She smiled, "That sounds adorable."

"There's a photo or two hanging around. I'll make sure to continue the tradition with our child."

"Good, I think they'll have nightmares dealing with me."

"Your voice is lovely," Rachel protested. "It's not traditional, granted, but it reminds me of Lauren Bacall, at it's lower registers."

Of course, that led into a segue where she sang a few lines of a song, which led to a mostly one-sided conversation about female vocalists in bands. All Quinn was able to contribute was "Joan Jett" which somehow led to 70's music, which led to 60's, which led to folk music, which somehow ended up with her falling asleep to Rachel singing, "Farewell Angelina" in the style of Joan Baez.

They talked more, besides that, and Quinn read over "East of Eden" over the phone so that everyone was included.

Even Invitationals couldn't take the edge off. April Rhodes had stolen the show and when someone asked if she'd participate in an indie musical, she'd promptly quit school and moved on, leaving them without a second powerhouse. Mercedes had a powerful voice but she didn't have the lower range of either April or Rachel, and Santana would rather spit nails than sing for more than an audience of one. Kurt was trying to make up for it, but Finn was uncomfortable singing a romantic song with a boy and Mr. Schuester wouldn't switch him for Puck. Beyond that, Sectionals was coming up and they still hadn't decided on a set list. It almost seemed like Mr. Schuester wanted glee club to tank.

But incompetence or no, her dreams continued. She woke up sticky and increasingly frustrated each day. Quinn had actually tried to masturbate – something good Christian girls decidedly did not do, but she was already pregnant out of wedlock so it didn't seem that terrible – but it was a weak relief, even compared to the fading memory of Rachel's tongue over a month ago.

She knew she had to do something, and quickly, when Ms. Pillsbury presented to her proudly a pamphlet that read "What to Do When Your Bedroom Eyes Won't Stop," subtitled, "Ten Cures for Sexual Frustration." Quinn left hurriedly to find Rachel, and then smacked her shoulder for laughing unrepentantly at her story. They were in the hall, lingering on the way to lunch.

"It's not funny," Quinn hissed.

Rachel insisted, "It's a little funny. You should give me the pamphlet."

"No."

Rachel beamed, as if that would make her give it up.

"No."

Rachel blinked a little, as if surprised it hadn't worked, then wiggled her eyebrows, "Want to find an empty room? We have twenty-seven minutes until lunch is over."

Quinn was tempted, but shook her head. "What I want to do with you is going to take more than twenty-seven minutes, Rach."

Rachel blushed but her grin grew, "Oh."

The blonde blushed as well, embarrassed by her public declaration, and after a quick look around, pressed a kiss to the upturned corner of her mouth. Rachel's grin grew, but Quinn backed away. She knew that look.

"Not again," She hissed.

"Hey, ManHands," A familiar voice called, "Leave Quinn alone." It was Santana, and she quickly steered Quinn away. Rachel waved at her as she left.

"Santana," Quinn said, "Just leave her alone."

Santana rolled her eyes, "You may have seemed to have built up an immunity but she still makes me nauseous."

"Oh, yeah, right. She's sweet," The blonde replied before she could think.

"Sweet," Santana said skeptically. "Right. If 'sweet' means Oompa Loompa-esque, then I guess so."

Quinn crossed her arms, "Did you need something?"

"Yep," She replied. "We need you to tell Finn he's not the father."

Her arms fell, "I –" Her voice was lost.

Santana continued, matter-of-factly, "I'll be honest, for a minute, I thought Finnocence managed to wait long enough to actually get it in to bust a nut, but then I thought about it. He can't write his name without screwing up, no way you're pregnant from him. So then I thought Puck, but he can't even look at you half the time and he may be an idiot but he's no deadbeat."

Quinn covered her mouth, praying internally that _Rachel_ hadn't been looking at her in a less than friendly way and Santana rolled her eyes again, "Don't try that shrinking Southern belle shit on me. You had sex with somebody and I intend to find out, Mary."

She was momentarily so confused, she felt less of the overwhelming fear. "Mary?"

"Yeah, Mary of Magdalene."

She quirked an eyebrow at Quinn's face, "Don't tell me a week away from home and the Christian doctrine left you. That shit's a gang; blood in, blood out."

Quinn said quietly, "I'm not a prostitute."

"Well, you sure aren't the Virgin Mary, and the only important women in the Bible are saints or sinners. What's it going to be?"

The blonde ignored her, "Finn is the father."

She scoffed, "Yeah, right. I didn't imagine that look on your face, Quinn." Her face softened, "I'm not going to tell anyone, alright? The shit's going to hit the fan, and soon. You want to get kicked out of two places in two weeks?"

Quinn rubbed her face and then rubbed the back of her neck. "It's not my secret to tell."

Santana shook her head, "Bullshit."

Quinn covered her stomach, "Hey!"

"Shut up, you said 'whore' a minute ago. Besides, midget probably doesn't have ears yet."

Midget. Santana called Rachel midget and she fought a smile. Apparently, she didn't fight it well enough because Santana moaned, "Oh, Jesus. You're gonna be one of**those** moms with the million nicknames."

Quinn shook her head, "No. I just – midget isn't as bad as I thought you'd come up with."

"Well, what am I supposed to call it?" Santana shrugged, "Berry?"

"Leave her alone!" She insisted.

The brunette shrugged, "I don't see what the big deal is, you aren't dating and you didn't have sex. I should be able to talk about her."

Quinn blushed and cursed her fair skin. Santana paled. "You had sex with Berry?"

"No!" Quinn denied, too fast.

Santana leaned against a locker. "Gay panic. You had gay panic after sex with Berry you fucked someone and now you're pregnant."

Santana ran a hand over her face, "Jesus, Quinn, I know you're repressed but shit. Do you even know who it was?"

She was shaking. This was it, now or never. Rachel had Puck in her corner; Quinn had to have someone. She couldn't do this with a secret like that hanging over her.

"Yeah," She said. "I know who it is."

Santana's voice was softer, almost caring, "Is he helping you take care of it?"

Quinn took the plunge, "They went with me to see the doctor a couple of weeks ago."

Santana frowned, "But the only people that went were-"

She paled further. "No fucking way."

Quinn hurried, "You have to keep it a secret, please, Santana, she's only told me, please!"

"Who would believe me?" She was blinking hard. "The fuck is that possible?"

"Your dad's the doctor," Quinn replied.

"Yeah, an oncologist," Santana snapped. "I know more about biology than his ass."

Quinn tried to maintain a persona of cool. She, rather shamefully, had never taken the extra step to look into Rachel's medical condition. Something that affected Rachel's life on a day-to-day basis, and she barely even knew what the name of it was.

Still, she didn't want to make things easy for Santana. She considered it payback for all the Rachel bashing and cursing she'd had to hear. "Look it up."

"Oh yeah, right. What, I google "chick with dick medical condition" and see what pops up? The fuck do I know that shit's real?"

"Make sure to add 'real life,'" Quinn suggested, and went to lunch.

She was fairly certain Santana cursed her within an inch of her life, but she was okay. Rachel had packed her a peanut butter and honey sandwich, which was absolutely perfect. She wanted sweets lately, like when she was on her period, probably because of the time.

When she got home she showered then immediately pulled up Google and looked up "intersexuals." The results were staggering. Rachel didn't just have a one in a million voice; she had a one in a million body. Technically, it was one in a thousand but there weren't many articles to help explain Rachel's condition besides what she soon saw as the basic disregard for personal values. Telling people their kids had cancer in order to perform surgery? It was disgusting. She also had no clue if Rachel had ovaries. A vagina, yes, but not ovaries. How did you even ask someone that? "Hey, sorry I've been too wrapped up in myself, but do you have ovaries?"

PBS had an article about an intersexual having a gender reassignment, and so did other magazines. From there she had to look up gender, and found it was different from biological sex. From what she could understand, gender was how a person felt, sex was what their body was defined as, the body didn't have to have a binary definition although society pressured people to choose, and either way it seemed most countries was uncomfortable with using more than he and she. God, why didn't they cover any of this in biology? There was some comic thing, but she didn't want fiction, she wanted facts. It took three hours for her eyes to start stinging, and she turned to her homework. She turned to biology last because she was tired of bodies and science and seeing that the Bible didn't have the answer to everything. She read the first few paragraphs, closed her eyes, and prayed.

What in God's name was an asexual?

She Googled that too. Asexuals were people who didn't feel sexual desire to others or an interest in sex. That, of course, led to more about sexual orientations, which weren't restricted to gender, something she'd already known, or something some people had. By the time she thought she had a loose grasp of those things – extremely loose at that – it was almost one in the morning. Quinn flopped onto her bed and fell asleep.

She was exhausted the next morning and Santana looked similarly tuckered out. She growled at Quinn in class, "It took me half an hour to find something that wasn't a porn site, you dick. You couldn't have just told me intersexual?"

Quinn yawned and slumped on the bleachers. Coach Sylvester was paranoid about her having the baby in class – which she really didn't understand – so she was given a grade for staying out of the way.

"I didn't want to make it too easy."

Santana rubbed her eyes, "Jesus Christ. So Berry's an intersexual –"

"And identifies as female."

"Right. And she's bisexual."

"Possibly," Quinn conceded. "Maybe pansexual."

Santana stopped rubbing, "What the fuck is pansexual?"

She made a small noise. "You must not have gone that far into the internet."

"What do you mean 'gone that far'? It's not a hole."

Quinn disagreed, "It's a hole."

"It's a system," The brunette argued. "There can be a hole in a system, but the system can't be a hole. It's composed of servers, information, and networks, that analogy is ruined."

"It's a hole in the metaphorical sense, genius. You go in to look at, I don't know, a cat breed, you exit knowing that tapirs are related to horses."

Santana stared at her, "You're a fucking geek. Jesus fuck, you loser."

Quinn flushed, "You know how the internet works. That makes you a bigger loser."

"Who doesn't know how the Internet works?"

"No one knows how it works, they just go on it."

Santana ignored her in favor of waving at Brittany, who was jogging up and down the steps. Brittany waved back, and then went back down the stairs. Santana plopped next to her and Quinn glanced at her. She really did belong in the uniform, she noted. She didn't wear it like armor, she wore it like skin.

Santana propped her head on her hands. "So, Berry's the – the other parent."

Quinn nodded, "Yeah."

"Kid might only be fifty percent hopeless, then," Santana conceded. "I mean, she's weird as all Hell, but she's pretty enough and smart. A couple of quirks would be okay."

Quinn smiled.

The brunette continued, "I'm not going to be nice to her or anything, but as long as the baby doesn't have her shnozz or personality, I'm okay."

They were quiet before Santana asked, "Is her dick big?"

Quinn pushed her.

Santana laughed, "It's a genuine question! Is her dick big?"

Seeing Quinn's face, she sighed, "Did you at least touch it?"

She hesitated. "Um."

"Have you **seen** it?"

"Yes!" She then muttered, "Twice. And she was hard once."

Santana rubbed her face. "Virgin. Complete and utter virgin. You're back to just Mary, mother of God. I can't even curse at this point."

Quinn protested, "I know what it looks like, it's just weird to describe it to you."

"Well, tell me. Anyone that crazy has to be insane in the sack."

Quinn's ears reddened. "It was at the party at Puck's, so I don't remember."

Santana gagged, "Oh, ew! That's what I slept on! I just thought it was a water balloon."

Quinn covered her mouth to keep from giggling. Santana continued to be disgusted, and then said, "Tell me before I barf."

"Then she um – she put her tongue on me-" The wording was funny, but that was essentially what'd happened and everything else seemed excessively crude, "in the auditorium a couple of months ago, and about three weeks ago we had sex in the choir room."

Santana looked torn between depreciating and impressed.

"So, you haven't touched her, you haven't given her a blow job, you're pregnant despite the use of a condom, she's gone down on you once, and you've had sex in public places twice."

Quinn nodded, "Yes."

"Worst virgins ever."

Quinn laughed. She couldn't help herself. If someone put her sexual experience in words, it looked – it looked stupid and something like a bad romance novel.

"That's pretty much it."

Santana persisted, "Can you at least give me an estimate?"

"Why are you so curious?" Quinn asked.

Santana held up two fingers. "Well, one, you and Berry had sex and the world didn't explode into leaping rainbow unicorns, so curious as to how that'd happened and two, you and Berry had sex, I deserve to know after putting up with all your lovey-dovey gay panic bullshit. Besides, she's like half Black, half Jewish. The universe is fucking with me if she's less than six inches."

"That's offensive on several levels."

"Your face is offensive."

They were quiet for a little while.

"I'm calling your kid smurf."

"No."

"Yes. I have to get some pleasure out of this."

"No."

"Fine, Ducky then."

Quinn gave her a deadpan look.

"There are worse nicknames then Ducky," Santana argued.

"Prove it."

Santana didn't have to prove it. Finn sat down with them at lunch, leaned forwards, and said excitedly, "I have the perfect name! We'll name the baby Drizzle!"

Everyone stilled, and then Santana said, "I didn't think it was possible but you are stupider than you look."

He blushed, "Shut up!"

"No."

Finn turned to Quinn and whined, "Why is she here?"

Quinn ignored them both.

They ignored each other and Quinn ate her sandwich. It was only a reminder that Finn was getting attached, and fast. She had to tell him the truth and fast. Not about Rachel, God knew how he'd react to **that**, but that he wasn't the other parent.

She licked her lips and decided to tell him before Glee. Hopefully, he'd just storm off.

She quietly asked Santana, on the way to class, to hold everyone off for a while during Glee. She nodded, her face serious for once.

Still, Quinn was nervous. Finn was goofy, but he was big and even if he didn't mean to, it was possible he would lose his temper and hurt her. Puck seemed to have the same mentality and stayed by the door with no prompting. She texted him to meet her in the choir room.

Two thirty came and Finn wasn't inside. Two thirty one and he and Puck were inside, rolling around on the floor.

He was screaming, "How could you? How could you do this to me?"

Finn was taller, but Puck was stronger, and he pinned Finn on the ground. **"I** didn't do anything! You've got a problem, talk to Fabray!"

It was more than just them in the room, suddenly, it was the entire Glee club. Puck got off of Finn and checked his face for bleeding. Finn was red-faced and he yelled, "Who was it? Tell me, who was it! Who let me be a complete idiot, caring about some baby that isn't mine!"

Quinn shook her head, hands pressed to her mouth as her eyes dewy. The tears were more of relief than anything else. He hadn't gone off the deep end as much as expected and the hardest thing she'd had to do - besides the actual act of giving birth - was over with. She'd broken her boyfriend's heart and was now free to date Rachel, and all that came with it.

He was reaching for her, probably to shake her, when Mike caught him around the chest and dragged him out the room. Even as he was being pulled, he stared at Quinn and said, "I'm never going to forgive you for this."

Quinn wiped her eyes, took a fortifying breath, and left the room. No one followed her. Rachel was at work, probably, and she texted her, **Finn found out. Someone told him before I did. he doesn't know its u.**

It took ten minutes for the next text to come in and Matt had moved out to ask her, shyly, if she still needed a ride to the Hudson's. He never said "home," always the Hudson's. His eyes seemed far away and she asked him, feeling oddly selfish to have never asked him anything, just accepting that he wanted to help her, "Matt, are you okay?"

He blinked at her and then smiled a little, "I'm fine."

Her cell phone chirped. The text was simple, and obvious when she thought about it. **I'll inform him and Carole. It's just as much my fault as it is yours.**

Quinn doubted that. Rachel hadn't been the one who wanted to lie for over a month to all these people. Saying she was pregnant and the baby wasn't Finn's was much different from saying that Rachel wasn't the father, but at the time it'd seemed very much the same. Either way, her worst nightmares had come true. Her parents had kicked her out, her church wasn't accepting her, her boyfriend had broken up with her and she was being kicked out again, and on top of that the girl she was infatuated with was working so much that actually seeing her for more than a quick kiss in an empty classroom looked like a pipe dream.

"Yes, Matt," She said. "I could use that ride to the Hudson's."

He drove her and said quietly on the way, "Things will work out."

Her laugh was dry, "What, if I believe?"

"No," He said thoughtfully, "if you work at it. Newton's third law: action and reaction are equal and opposite."

Carole was home before she was. Finn must have called her and gotten a ride. Quinn got out of the car and said, "Thanks, Matt."

He gave her a thumbs up before he drove off.

The front door was unlocked and Finn was visible, pacing in the living room. Carole was sitting on the couch and Quinn took a dry swallow before she closed the door and entered the house fully.

"I want her out," Finn was saying. "She made me believe that I was the father and she used us as a place to stay! I want her gone!"

Carole ran her hands over her face before saying, "Does she have a place to go? Would her family take her back in?"

"I don't know and I don't care! She's not my girlfriend!"

Her voice was tired but sincere, "You should care, Finn. No matter if she's made you upset or not, you have to think of others. I refuse to let a young lady sleep on the street or put her things on the curb because of something you thought of in a moment of anger. She was kicked out barely two weeks ago." She cut him off, "This is my house and these are my rules. When you start paying utility bills, car payments, and insurance go ahead, but until then she stays until she wants to leave and has a place to stay.

Finn was still upset, it was obvious on his face, but he slumped into the love seat. Carole looked up, gave her an exhausted smile, and patted the couch cushion next to her. Quinn took the seat and Carole said, "Finn, would you go to your room?"

Finn left and Quinn started to wring her hands. Almost as soon as Finn was out of sight, she said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I didn't mean to lie to either of you but I just – when I told him I wasn't thinking, and then things just –"

"Snowballed," She supplied the word. The older woman took another look at Quinn and said, "I don't think you're a bad kid, Quinn. A little misguided, yes. In a terrible circumstance, yes. But intentionally hurtful and manipulative? No."

Quinn couldn't help the tears that gathered in her eyes. Carole pulled her into a hug, so her forehead was against Carole's neck and she was practically sitting on her lap, and said, "It's okay, sweetie. Stay here as long as you need."

Quinn stayed pressed to her neck, but didn't cry. She was more emotionally exhausted then she was overwhelmed and she simply leaned against Carole, who turned the TV onto the news. They watched the local news for more than an hour and a half before the doorbell rang. Carole gently untangled Quinn from her embrace and walked to the door.

Quinn could hear her say, "Hey, sweetie, come on in. Are you here for Quinn? I'm sure she could use some cheering up right now from someone closer to her in age."

It was Rachel, then, who entered the room and her eyes were huge and scared before they trained on Quinn and relief slowly bled into them. Her face was pale except for under her nose, which was pink. Quinn stood up and Rachel hugged her tightly. They clung perhaps a little longer than socially acceptable, and settled on the couch together.

Carole sat down and Rachel said, quietly, "Mrs. Hudson, I have something to tell you and Finn regarding Quinn and her unborn child."

It was weird, hearing Rachel say "her." Every time Quinn heard Rachel refer to the baby, it was "our."

Carole glanced at both of them, and said, "Sure. I'll go get him."

The woman went up the stairs and Quinn turned to Rachel. She whispered, "Are you sure about this?"

Rachel took a deep, shuddering breath. "No, but I have to. I can't - I'm not going to let them do any of this from under false pretenses. We know that I'm the other parent, and I'll tell them. Today's date night and if you want to, Puck and I can move you into the spare room before they even get home."

She licked her lips but before she could move or say anything, Finn and Carole were downstairs.

"What are you doing here?" Finn asked.

Rachel stood and said, "I actually have something to tell the both of you. It was Quinn's decision not to tell either of you who the second biological parent to her child was, and I respected that. Now, I'd like to say that i-"

She took another deep breath, "I am the second biological parent."

Finn laughed while Carole's eyes went huge.

He looked up and his face slowly dropped.

"Are you serious?" He asked.

Rachel nodded, "Yes."

Carole's voice was choked, "How?"

"I'm what you'd call an intersexual," She explained. "I have female characteristics, such as most hormones and my breasts, as well as a severely underdeveloped vagina. I also have a penis connected to testes that produce –"

"That's enough!" Finn yelped. "You're a girl! That's –" He floundered for words, then said, "You tricked me! You told me you liked me!"

He was standing, suddenly, and in Rachel's face. The brunette stared up at him and said, "At the time, I did like you. You're a very nice young man, Finn, but I –"

"If you liked me you wouldn't have slept with my girlfriend!"

Rachel's voice was still calm, "I can accept that train of thought. It's also distinctly possible that I could like you and your then girlfriend. Attraction isn't limited to one person at a time."

Attraction. It was a very detached word for the feelings Rachel gave her.

Carole reached out and put a hand on his back. "Sit down, son, Rachel," She said quietly.

They both sat down. Quinn took Rachel's faintly shaking hand and got a small, trembling smile in return.

Carole asked the immediate questions, "Are you prepared to take care of this baby?"

"Yes, I currently have a job, I'm maintaining my grades, and since I've given up my extra curriculum activities, I intend to do community service at the local soup kitchen once things settle down."

"Do you have a place for Quinn to stay?" Carole asked. She hastily reassured them, "I'm perfectly fine with Quinn staying here as long as you need, honey, but a parent has to ask these things."

"We have three spare rooms," Rachel told her. "The basement is empty, another room that my older cousin occasionally stays in but it's exceedingly rare as his university is out of town, and a spare. Puck and Mike said they'd be more than willing to help move her in. It's her decision."

Carole propped her chin on her hands and leaned forwards. "How will your fathers react to this, sweetie?"

Rachel's words were less fast this time. She hesitated, then said, "They'd be disappointed in me, I believe, but there's no way they'd let Quinn fall under anyone else's responsibility."

Carole looked thoughtful, then said, "Quinn, it's your decision, but I suggest some time to think it over. At least overnight."

Quinn said with conviction, "I don't need overnight. I'm more than willing to get out of your hair and if the Berry's would be okay with it, I don't see why not."

Carole swallowed and stood. "I'll get some bags for your clothes, then."

This move was just as smooth as the other, even though it required two trips because they didn't have time for a U-Haul, and navigating up the stairs was harder than going down.

Carole hugged her before she entered the house. "You have any trouble, just call me," She said.

Quinn bit her lip, "I know this is probably too late to say, but I'd still like for the baby to have a grandmother, if he or she's going to have two grandfathers."

Carole didn't cry but she was close to it when she left.

Still, it was only just past seven o'clock on a Friday evening.

"My fathers leave at five so they can go to a larger city," Rachel explained. "Date night in Lima isn't the most exciting thing."

She should have explored, but she was tired and needed a shower. Rachel led her to the bathroom and gave her a towel and washcloth. She realized too late she'd left her soap and things in her room. It sounded and felt weird; "her room." Having a room in her unofficial girlfriend's house was a rather sobering experience. Still, she showered, using Rachel's soap that proclaimed 'organic', pulled on her pajamas and headed to Rachel's room. She'd used her fathers shower, and her hair was drying around her head. Her pajamas were about as sickeningly cute as her sweaters. They were green with little blue puppies all around.

Toto glanced at her but didn't bark or huff as she climbed in the bed behind Rachel. She smelled like Old Spice and Quinn nuzzled her neck. Rachel hummed and murmured, "We didn't read tonight."

Quinn yawned, "The baby will forgive us." Rachel yawned as well, and Quinn said, "You should sing to me."

"What do you want to hear?"

She thought about it. "What was the song you sang to me on Wednesday?"

"Farewell Angelina?" Rachel checked. "Okay."

She sang softly until Quinn fell asleep, _"Farewell Angelina,  
>the bells of the crown<br>Are being stolen by bandits,  
>I must follow the sound,<br>The triangle tingles  
>and the trumpets play slow."<em>


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Author's note: This one is on time for once! I just finished this, so point out any errors if you see any, please?

Chapter 11 –

Quinn woke up just after five in the morning and barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. The hall had never seemed so long. In between her retching, she heard the soft footfalls of Rachel, before she kneeled next to her and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Rachel kissed her temple and yawned softly, before wiping Quinn's brow with the edge of her pajama sleeve.

"It's almost over," Rachel reassured her, and rubbed her back gently while she started to dry-heave. She couldn't even remember if she'd eaten dinner yesterday. Lunch, yes, but then Rachel had come over, and she'd moved again. She was hungry, and found that yes, there were a few things left in her stomach to end up in the toilet. Rachel left her momentarily, and came back with a wet cloth she patted her forehead with, and then wiped her neck as well.

When the morning sickness finally stopped, Rachel gestured to the Listerine and Quinn rinsed her mouth out. Rachel was putting on a pair of small cotton shorts and an exercise shirt, putting her pajamas in the hamper when she went back to her room. The light from the window was sparse, but her eyes had adjusted from the trip, and she could see the light gray of Rachel's form covered in clothes that were slightly darker. Rachel exercised in gold. Of course.

"I'm going to work on the elliptical," Rachel said. "It's two doors down to the right, on the left hand side, if you want company. My father's might or might not be home, I don't know if they came in."

Quinn scratched her throat, "I think I'll just go back to sleep, Rach. It's five in the morning on a Saturday."

Rachel shrugged, "One man's loss is another's treasure." She frowned while walking backwards, "Or perhaps the adage should be person. More gender neutral."

Quinn yawned, and the door closed behind Rachel. Quinn climbed in the bed again and snugged against Rachel's pillow. Underneath the Old Spice was still a scent uniquely Rachel; light, pleasant, almost spicy in a way. She drifted back off to sleep and didn't wake up until it was a more appropriate time. She half way woke up at some point, hearing the shower start, but only rolled over.

Sunlight filtered in, making dust motes individual through the canopy, and she pushed herself out and to the bathroom. After a moment, she realized she didn't have a toothbrush and went into the hall to get to her room. She emerged with her bathroom kit, and went into the bathroom again. Teeth brushed, face washed and much more pleasant now that she'd had more sleep, and she changed into a dress and pulled on socks. The Berry's had wooden floors and she didn't want to wander around in her ratty bedroom slippers with the floors so cold.

Quinn smelled pancakes. Rachel was singing in the kitchen, and then a male voice joined in. It sounded familiar, but she didn't notice until she was all the way inside that it was Puck. His register was lower, here, and it blended more agreeably with Rachel's than Finn's did. Or her's would, she mentally pouted, as they stopped.

Hannah and Puck were sitting on the stools of the breakfast bar again. Rachel was flipping a pancake onto a plate leaden with them, each circular and golden-brown, and all roughly the size of the plate. There were two smaller ones on top that she gave to Hannah, and poured a little bit of syrup over them. Hannah pouted up at her and Rachel closed the cap firmly, with a click. Puck seemingly speared half the stack onto his plate and Rachel scolded him, "What if Quinn wanted more than that?"

He shrugged, shoving one in his mouth. Quinn grimaced at the sight as he talked, pancake showing repeatedly, and "You can make more. It's not like you ever run out of flour in this house."

Quinn shifted a little in the doorway. Rachel had been glaring but at seeing the movement, turned to see Quinn and smiled at her. "Good morning, Quinn." She had heard the shower, then. Rachel was wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. The house was kept a little on the warm side, so she could see why Rachel's shirt wasn't long-sleeved.

She smiled as well, "Morning everyone."

Puck and Hannah waved, and she took a stool. There were four, and Rachel said, getting the orange juice out, "Take however many you want Quinn."

She looked at the formidable stack and took two of them. She didn't think she'd be able to finish more than those two. She took a bite and held in a moan. Hearing Puck's snicker and Hannah's giggle, she saw she wasn't very good at it. They had more texture than regular pancakes, and were a little thicker than her mother's were, soaking up most of the syrup. She didn't even like syrup, but apparently, what the Berry's saved in eco-friendly products they used on food, because it was some Vermont mountain thing.

Rachel started eating last, taking three of the pancakes for herself. Breakfast was quiet, again, and this time there were no weird conversations about babies or fucking or anything really.

After they were done - and somehow, all of them had gone for seconds, and finished the stack - Puck turned to Quinn and asked, "Do you play Mario Kart? I'm tired of beating Ray again and again."

Rachel, of course, protested that he wasn't beating her; she was just practicing on him.

He rolled his eyes, "It's okay to be bad at video games."

"I'm not bad at video games," She argued, placing the dishes in the sink, and starting to wash them. "I'm simply less than astute at Mario Kart. I've beat you multiple times at 'Grand Theft Auto.'"

He nodded a placating look on his face. "Yeah, well. C'mon, Fabray, I'll show you the ropes."

They walked into the living room, and Puck flopped in front of the TV before setting everything up and handing her a Wii remote. There were pictures above the TV and all over the room. It would have been nosy to look all over the room, so she just looked at the ones on the TV. They were mostly of Rachel, in various states of dress, and one of her as a very small infant with a mess of dark curls, bare naked on what appeared to be a shag rug. She was a sort of fawn color at the time, definitely lighter than she was now. Solo pictures of her were on either side, still young, but definitely at a talking point. One was her in a little sailor suit, looking slightly uncomfortable but beaming anyways. Her hat was crooked. Another was of her dressed as a princess with a wand. She was much less enthused, staring off to the side at something when the picture was taken.

She'd never been much good at video games, and generally preferred to just watch Brittany trounce Santana, but it seemed as if this was something Puck was into. She took a pillow from the couch and sat down next to him. He quickly explained the rules and how you moved with the Wii remote in general.

Puck scooted over a little bit and said, "Trust me on this, we'll need the space."

At first, she was rather ambivalent towards it. It was just a game, and she didn't see what the big deal was. After her second loss, however, and hearing his muffled sound of happiness - she suspected if this wasn't her first time playing, he'd have said something to the effect of, "In your face, Fabray!" - She hunkered down, and came in second by milli seconds.

"Beginner's luck," Puck scoffed. "Bet you can't do that again."

She didn't make second again. She was first. Rachel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wet hands on her shoulders briefly, and from then on was cheering her on from the couch and after a moment, so was Hannah.

"All or nothing," Puck said, and they played again. She forced her car to go as fast as possible and get all the stars once she was in front. She was too far ahead for the typical shenanigans to work with Puck, and at the last checkpoint, caused an oil slick that made Puck swear and swerve.

She put on an innocent face as she beat him again and said, "Must have been luck again."

He threw his controller down in mock disgust. "Yeah, yeah."

Hannah wanted to play a video game after that, so they set up a learning adventure thingy, and Quinn moved to sit next to Rachel. Her back was hurting a little, and Rachel massaged the muscles there gently, pressing her thumbs into her lower back in a soothing way. It was apparent that the Messer's Berry weren't home yet, and Quinn held in a sigh of relief. They'd notice the room, probably, even though it had been empty of anything and bare of designs. They'd notice, of course, when she didn't leave the house. Saturday was a good day for it, though. They had time throughout the day.

After video games, everyone worked on homework. Quinn didn't have much, but sitting at the kitchen table, watching Rachel explain to Puck the usefulness of attending **a** math class, was more like the life she'd imagined as a child, when those scenes came on TV. Everyone doing homework, a plate of cookies in between; it had seemed like the ultimate ideal.

Hannah finished first, as she had to write sentences with her list of words and then sat impatiently as the teenagers finished their homework. After homework, Puck decided that he'd take Hannah home and again ruffled Quinn's hair in parting. Hannah hugged her around her waist and asked, shyly, "Are you gonna be here again?"

She smiled down at her, "Yes."

"Good," The girl then said, "Noah, c'mon, home!"

He shook his head, "You got it squirt."

They left the house and she heard the roar of Puck's truck.

"How long have you guys known each other?" She asked.

"All our lives. He's a year older than me," Rachel said. "High school isn't the best example of our relationship, and the only reason I went to McKinley instead of another private school was because he was there and Principal Figgins assured my parents that I'd be treated with respect. My fathers thought I'd have less bullying that way, with him there as well. By the time they realized my complaints wouldn't be listened to, the school had stopped taking students for the year and said to try again, and then I was in so many clubs the other school didn't have, they decided that public high school would just be a stepping stone for college."

Quinn nodded, and after a while, Rachel stood up, opened the side door and let Toto in. The dog lumbered in and immediately flopped in front of the island. Rachel crouched down and started rubbing his side, cooing, "You are the worst, you big lug. Yes, you are, yes, you are."

He rolled onto his back and waved his paws. She scratched his chest and stomach, and Quinn could see and feel his tail thumping against the stool she was sitting on.

After a few minutes, he rolled over, placed his paws on Rachel's shoulders, and pushed her to the floor, where he proceeded to lick her face. She laughed and continued to stroke his ears and rubbed her head against his with a growl. "Off," She said. He stood and she said, "Well."

That was it. Well.

The brunette held out a hand, "I'm going to wash my face, just so you know. Want to go to my room?"

She stood up and took Rachel's hand. "Yes, but don't kiss me until you are completely clean."

"Dog saliva is cleaner than a human mouth," Rachel protested.

"Yeah, well, not when he's licking his anus."

Toto was, in his defense, licking his leg, not his anus.

"That's his leg."

"Go clean up," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. She was tugged up the stairs and Toto followed them. Quinn entered the room while Rachel went to the bathroom, and Quinn had gotten settled down when Rachel came back and laid next to her. Her face smelled like melon, and it was scrubbed clean, leaving pink spots on her cheeks and forehead. She kissed her nose and Rachel grinned at her, before kissing her mouth.

They moved into a soft embrace, Rachel's arms around her shoulders, Quinn's arms around her waist pulling them closer and closer to one another. It was one of the first times they'd made out with only the intention of making out. During school, they kissed because they couldn't bear not to, it was a long promise. It was a promise of later, to be exact. Later in life, later than this. Kissing cemented that they had something together that was more intimate than just friendship, and it could now move into a full-body romance, if that's what Rachel wanted.

Apparently, **this** was what Rachel wanted. Her mouth strayed, gently, to the edges of Quinn's lips, and her nose blew warm air across her face gently, as she moved to kiss her chin, her jawline, licking behind her ear. Quinn yipped. It was the best name for the sound she made and Rachel raised her eyebrows at her.

"Shut up," She complained, and bit Rachel's jaw just hard enough to hurt in revenge. Rachel yipped, then flushed, and buried her face in embarrassment at the space between Quinn's neck and shoulder.

"You smell like me," Rachel said.

Quinn responded, "I used your soap last night."

She could hear Rachel's snuffling inhales, and squirmed a little as she began to leave open mouthed kisses along her neck.

"What're you doing?"

There was a nip to her shoulder in response, and after a moment of being ignored, she pinched Rachel's side. Rachel didn't move, continuing to nose around her neck and clavicle with soft kisses and flicks of her tongue. It was unfairly arousing, and she pushed Rachel onto her back before rolling on top of her. Not now. Yes, they had the time, but they hadn't made anything official yet. Rachel deserved official after all the shit Quinn had put her through. She nuzzled her ear, sighing, then kissed her earlobe. Rachel began to rub her back and Quinn laid her head on Rachel's chest. Her breasts were just below her eyes and the memory of the last time they'd been so close - the choir room, which really could have been awkward if everyone wasn't always so eager to leave after school - and her breasts had been covered then. Her nipples had been visible through her bra, if that meant anything, but Quinn quickly decided that it didn't and there was no way they were doing anything now.

Asking her out now would be stupid. She'd look like some pathetic girl, even with their relationship being very unofficial in the months leading up to it. Two months and two weeks, still in the first trimester. Great, she was thinking of them in pregnancy terms.

She decided to ignore her thoughts and asked, "When do your dads come home?"

Rachel frowned, "Normally, they'd have been here by now. They might have gone antiquing or with some friends, though. They're very spontaneous."

"And you're not?" Quinn asked.

Rachel's tongue swept along her bottom lip. Quinn watched it, cursing her depraved sense of honor. "I don't think I am," She said. "I've been known to do some spur of the moment things, but I don't think I qualify as spontaneous. Emotional, though, yes. Reckless, yes."

She couldn't imagine Rachel as reckless. Even during lunch, she always forced herself to exactly however many grapes at once, even when she looked like she wanted to put them all in her mouth, like Mike, and Mike was one of the neatest people she knew. Not like Hummel, who was neat to the point of fussing in the mirror more than most girls she knew, or standing in class to adjust exactly how his sweater fell the way he had in French all of last year, but Mike was neat enough. She'd have probably had to suffer this year as well, but Mrs. Palm had some mental breakdown during the first day of school or a seizure or something, and Figgins panicked, so she was "on suspension for her mental health", and she'd been put into Spanish until they could find a replacement. At this point, she'd rather suffer through his clumsy Spanish then conjugate French verbs for the rest of the year.

She didn't even know if Rachel took French or Spanish or what.

"What language class are you taking?"

"German. So far all I've learned is frauline for miss. Michael and I play hangman when we aren't doing homework. What are you learning in Spanish?"

"Conjugating 'ser' and 'estar' with actual conversation sprinkled throughout."

Rachel hummed and kissed the top of her head again. Quinn wrapped a few strands of her long hair around her finger, then unwound them. Her hair felt silky, and she'd straightened it today. She wondered if the baby would have Rachel's hair, then said, "Maybe we should work on a list of names for the baby."

"Already?" Rachel asked. "You're in the tenth week."

"Rachel, you were named for a Friends character and I have my grandfather's name because he had colon cancer. We don't have a good track record."

"Really? Is he okay now?"

Quinn said flippantly, "Yeah, he's fine. He's too evil to die, I'm pretty sure the colon cancer ran off or something in the face of him."

Rachel giggled, then slammed a hand over her mouth, "That's not nice."

"Names," She insisted.

Rachel sighed, "Fine, fine. We'll make a list of gender neutral names and then decide if we want something more or less feminine or masculine as the pregnancy continues. Deal?"

Quinn kissed her mouth, "Deal."

Rachel wriggled from underneath her and went to a small bag by her closet door, where she pulled out a laptop. She came back with it, and started it up. Quinn looked away while she input her password, and tried not to hover as she went to Google and typed "gender neutral names."

She clicked the first link and then enlarged the text.

"Cameron?" Rachel asked.

Quinn shook her head. "No."

"Dakota?"

"No."

"Ew, not this one. Jesse?"

"No. Only jerks are named Jesse."

She laughed, "Your name is on here."

Quinn gave her the finger, and Rachel continued to snigger, "Emerson."

"Are we having a baby or a dead guy?"

"Charlie?"

Quinn thought about it. It wasn't a terrible name, but no, not for a first name.

"Not for a first name. Possibly a middle name."

Rachel pulled up a spread sheet, and quickly made a short note: Middle names. 1) Charlie

They went back to the website and Rachel asked, almost incredulous, "Finley? What in the world is a Finley?"

"Isn't that a park or something? No."

"Phoenix?"

"No. Everyone's going to call them names."

"Sidney?"

"Like Australia? The place founded by convicted felons and lunatics?"

Rachel muttered, "That's a no, then. Um, Casey?"

Quinn thought. "That could work. Possibly."

"Possible names," Rachel said under her breath as she typed it into the spreadsheet, and then put Casey there.

"Hayden?"

"No. Maybe Hadrian if it's a boy." Rachel added it to the list.

"Tatum?"

"Hell no. Channing Tatum looks like his face is bashed in."

"Alexi?"

"No."

"Z- okay, no. I'm not naming my child after a mountain."

Quinn peered at the screen. "Angel is out."

"Good. Least favorite Buffy character of all time."

Quinn was confused. Quinn remained confused because she wasn't going to listen to a rant today about character development and terrible acting.

They went through the entire list, then focused on more compacted names on different websites. It took two hours to come up with a feasible list, and even then, some names Quinn felt like crossing out.

And then came the hard question, "My last name or yours?"

Rachel blinked, then frowned, and bit her bottom lip. "I can't sign it. My assigned gender is female."

Quinn swallowed, "Oh."

Her smile was thin, "Yeah. At least we won't have to argue about which last name goes on the birth certificate."

Quinn croaked out a sound, then stared just to the left of the screen. Rachel's little hands were so pretty, hovering over the silver keys. Her nails were painted apple green.

Rachel looked away and back to the spread sheet, before saving it "Baby Fabray."

Quinn smiled widely, then head-butted her shoulder gently, "That should read Fabray-Berry."

Rachel's grin was beautiful.

Rachel put the laptop off to the side just as her bedroom door opened. Jeremiah and Gerard stood in the doorway, looking huge and intimidating. Seeing her, they both smiled and Gerard said, "As nice as it is to see you, Quinn, I'm afraid you'll have to go home. We need to have a small family chat with Spencer."

She glanced at Rachel. Rachel's eyes were wide and she was still, as if she'd turn invisible. Seeing that she hadn't turned invisible and Quinn's look turned desperate, Rachel quickly stood and said, "I think Quinn should stay here. If it's small, no need for her to leave."

Gerard was going to answer, but Jeremiah had narrowed his eyes and asked, slowly, "Quinn, are those your bedroom slippers?"

She squeaked, then managed to get out, "Yes, sir."

"Which room?" Gerard asked.

"Two doors to the right of this one." Rachel was looking at her hands as she spoke.

"And where did you sleep last night?" They were looking at her.

Quinn managed to get out, "Here."

Gerard opened his mouth again, but Jeremiah said, "Quinn, go to your room, please. Spencer, come."

They glanced at one another as they went to their designated places. Quinn's rooms had windows on the west side, and looked over their backyard. She looked out the window. It was a beautiful fall day, and their backyard seemed huge. There was a maple tree with a well-maintained tree house settled in the middle. The tree was just starting to lose it's leaves, crisp colors, and she opened the window to let in some fresh air. She shivered a little, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms and rubbed them.

Even though her door was closed, she could hear the sounds of their conversation, but couldn't make out the words, only the tone and volume. Rachel's responses weren't audible, but she winced at Gerard's booming voice. His very tone was piercing, echoing, and she threw herself on the bed. They were the same sheets from her home, and when she buried her face in them, they smelled like fabric softener. Carole had washed them, she knew, but now they didn't smell like anything in particular. She tugged at her cross, running her thumb across the back of it. Jesus' face was pressed to her index finger. She could feel the edges of his crown. She pressed harder.

Downstairs was quiet, suddenly, and then she heard footsteps up the stairs. Jeremiah appeared, and seeing her face, the hard line of his mouth softened and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he led her to the living room, "C'mon, honey. Rachel explained some things, but it's still going to be a little touch and go with my husband for a few weeks."

"Okay," She said. Her voice was small and high, mostly spoken into his side.

Rachel was sitting on the couch, and Gerard was pacing in front of her. She sat down next to Rachel and watched Jeremiah wrap his arms around his husband's waist frrom behind. Gerard was maybe a smidgen shorter, but his muscles were more evident. Rachel took her hand and squeezed. Normally, Rachel was very light in her touches with everything, but now she was holding on for dear life. Her knuckles were white. Quinn ran her thumb along the back of her hand and somehow, some of the tension of the room eased ever so slightly.

Gerard took a deep breath, then said in a clipped sentence, "You're pregnant."

"Yes."

"The other parent in this affair is our daughter."

"Yes, sir."

"You're absolutely positive that there is no other possibility?"

Rachel let out a shocked, "Papa!" but Quinn still answered, "I'm sure, sir. I haven't had sex with anyone but Ra-Spencer. Ever."

He nodded, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well."

The air whooshed out of her lungs. The truth was out to all relevant parties and so far they'd had one parent out of five reject her and call her a complete paragon of sin and what was wrong with the world. Eighty percent was still good.

Eighty percent was actually really, really fantastic.

Jeremiah kissed Gerard's neck. Quinn realized with a start she'd never seen her own parents do that. They'd been married twenty-odd years, and never something as simple as a hug from behind and a kiss on the neck. She tightened her hand on top of Rachel's, and felt her - her something, her other respond.

Other. That was a good word for them. Girlfriend seemed, suddenly, too high school-ish, too temporary, and partners was way too mature, but other was very good.

Jeremiah cleared his throat, "Still, even with that. We have some ground rules, okay, Quinn?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir."

"First, no sir's, we're Gerard and Jeremiah, or possibly 'Dad' if that's something you feel comfortable with. It's not a rule, it's a fact. You don't break facts."

"She can call me sir," Gerard glared.

Jeremiah ignored him, "Rule number one, if you go in a room with Rachel, open door policy."

"Two," Jeremiah continued, "We'd like for you to come to us if you need or want anything, and we'll see about it. You have a permanent OB/GYN?"

She shook her head, "No. I went to a clinic near Akron for my first trimester ultrasound. Everything checked out well."

"Still, we need to find you one, and a preferred hospital. Three is school. How are you doing?"

Rachel spoke up before she could, "She's the number one in our class."

"Very good," Jeremiah smiled. "That's a big accomplishment. We know it's hard, but we'd like for you to maintain either that spot or one just below it. What are your current academic grades?"

"All A's, but report cards haven't come out," She said.

He beamed. "Excellent. We'll put your report card next to Rachel's in the den when you two get them."

She found herself smiling back, "Okay."

"Good. Our diet is almost entirely vegan, although Gerard has been known to sneak in a pepperoni pizza every once in a while. We won't pressure you to join in, and if you want something in particular, we'll accommodate you. Do you have any food allergies?"

Quinn shook her head.

"We know that pregnant women can have some unusual cravings, and we'll try to find a healthy alternative to some combinations. Gestational diabetes is common in teenage pregnancies, so your diet is of the utmost concern. Her bedtime also applies to you, so get used to 9:30 on the weeknight's. That's about it."

"Abba-leh volunteers at the women's shelter," Rachel murmured into her ear. Her breath was hot and Quinn had to remind herself that now was really not the time to be having thoughts like that.

Jeremiah finally let go of Gerard, who moved to sit in a lone armchair. Jeremiah flopped on a love seat and threw his long legs over the side. His feet were bare and his toes were painted blue.

The TV had been on mute most of the time, but she could now see it was playing a movie. Matt Damon appeared to be running down a street, his face a mask of concentration. Gerard turned the sound on and the family watched The Bourne Identity.

They watched Matt Damon's fairly impassive face for the next hour before Gerard stood up, "Anybody want Chinese?"

"I do," Jeremiah and Rachel piped up.

He nodded, "The usual?"

Rachel asked what she wanted from the restaurant and Quinn shook her head. She didn't have much experience with eating out and simply deferred to whatever they normally had. Jeremiah, Quinn, and Rachel watched another movie while Gerard was out, the next Bourne movie. Apparently, it was a Matt Damon kind of night. At some point, Rachel curled up closer to her and she nuzzled into her soft hair. Either the Chinese restaurant was having a busy night or he'd taken some time to cool off. She couldn't really blame him, and kissed the top of Rachel's head. Even if Rachel was insisting that her plans were fine, and that Quinn and the baby weren't going to stop her dreams of stardom and Broadway, realistically, it was hard to see that.

**She** was going to hold her back, as painful as that was. It really would be one of those things that she needed to see to believe, that Rachel could get out and help her take care of the baby too.

Gerard returned then, and put the bags on the kitchen table, visible if she turned just slightly, and shook off his jacket. It must have started to rain. Just as she thought it, she heard thunder outside.

"It's a little late in the year for thunderstorms, huh, babe?" Jeremiah said as the trio walked into the room.

"You'd think so, but you know how global warming screws stuff up," Gerard commented. He was getting cutlery down and Rachel took the plates out. The bags smelled great, and Jeremiah pulled the pints out. Just like the Hudson's, the Berry's didn't pray beforehand. They did lessen to a murmur when she bent her head and said a prayer, then returned to their casual conversation. The thunder stopped just before they finished eating. She was quiet, still unsure about them. Jeremiah was nice, nicer than she'd have expected from a near stranger who only knew her from the principal's office. She'd expected more of a response like Gerard's, with his silence and skipping over her when it came time to pass things.

The food was colorful. Yellow, orange, red and green peppers were chopped up into the brown noodles, and there were sugar peas and water chestnuts in the fried rice. It was also surprisingly tasty and it turned out that Gerard had bought two more, probably because he knew what would happen.

Quinn was waved off from the dishes, along with Rachel, and they went upstairs. It was apparent that the men needed to talk about something in private. Probably her. They left the door open to Rachel's room when they entered. Rachel handed her the book - her own, personal copy - with a slightly puppyish look on her face. She laughed a little, and climbed into the bed next to her before she started to read. Rachel curled up next to her until the chapter was over with. Toto was still on his bed of pillows, but there was a tennis ball that looked like it'd seen better days, and Rachel said to her, "Be back briefly, I need to f-e-e-d him."

Quinn raised her eyebrows, "You spell things out in front of him?"

"He's a very smart dog, Quinn. I'm surprised he's been in here the entire time, he normally needs more intellectual stimulation."

She patted her leg and Toto followed Rachel out the room. Quinn went to her own room after a moment, and looked out the window again. Rachel must have fed him already because they were running around in the backyard, spraying mud everywhere. She shook her head, watching them get muddy and roll around. It was obvious Rachel was going to be the fun parent and she was going to have to be a little more stern on the baby. Then again, Rachel's meticulous schedules almost entirely ensured that the baby would have some authority. And maybe they wouldn't have to resort to the "fun" parent and the "boring" parent stereotypes. The baby would love and like them equally as long as they loved and cared for him or her to the best of their abilities.

Gerard appeared outside as well, with what appeared to be a water hose. She could hear Rachel's laughter as she was sprayed with the water hose. Toto barked and then jogged over to him, and drank the water from the hose. Rachel climbed up to the tree house, clinging to the branches like a little monkey. She'd probably stink when she came back in. Quinn resigned herself from not to a big, enthusiastic, disgusting hug. She couldn't stop smiling at the prospect.

Rachel showered before she wrapped Quinn in a hug, and Toto was groomed in the garage until his fur was back to it's normal pristine white and brown. He seemed to find Quinn less interesting than Rachel, but still licked her face and hands when he wandered into her room in greeting. His fur was still poofy from the blow-drying and he hopped on top of her, laying most of her chest on top of her. He panted in her face and she pushed his head away. His smelled like oatmeal and vanilla, and she scratched his chest.

The next day, Gerard made breakfast. She got an omelet equal in size to Rachel's and two slices of facon. It wasn't as bad as she'd have thought, but she still preferred the taste of actual bacon. Something about it was just slightly off. Rachel played basketball with Puck for a while until it started to rain while Quinn read, and then Quinn taught Puck how to play speed with a deck of cards. He claimed to be a poker man, then promptly lost at that to Hannah. They were playing for pennies and chocolate and the elementary school student was hopped up before the day was over. She met Mrs. Puckerman the same day, who seemed very unimpressed with her. They ate out again that night, this time Thai Brittany called and she talked with her as well. She really only had to talk to one or the other, they always told each other everything.

The Glee club finally had a set list and dances, and the last week was pure practice for Sectionals next Saturday. Gerard was ignoring her firmly in the house, but Jeremiah asked for her address that Wednesday. By the following Friday, Russell gave Gerard a manila folder and left without saying a word.

Jeremiah explained, "Because they kicked you out, we have to take legal responsibility for you. You go on our insurance, health and otherwise, we take care of you financially, we'll be on your FASFA, you go on our taxes, and we need to go to the school to change your emergency contacts. It's just technical stuff, mostly. We won't stop you from seeing your parents, but they have no legal claim on you, okay?"

She nodded, her lower lip trembling, "Okay."

He hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his chest. He smelled like Old Spice and books. He ran a book store in town entirely independently. There was a Marine tattoo on his bicep, she saw, above the whale. He'd been retired from active duty from a stray bullet to the chest. Gerard was a legal consultant, but most of his job could be done from home. His firm was actually in Columbus, but Lima was home for him. Jeremiah had grown up in New Hampshire and they'd met during college tours. Then they'd kept seeing each other virtually everywhere, it seemed, then they'd dated.

Rachel was the one that told her their story, showing her the photos of her fathers as young men. She always saw it as odd, that a photograph could take a picture and the same people could be looking at them years later. There was a flash as they looked at the pictures from above. They looked up to see Gerard with a camera. He went into his study. Quinn tried to flip to the baby pictures but Rachel pushed her over and sat on her ass. Jeremiah told them to quit horse playing. Horse playing, of course, meant "play" to Toto, who knocked over Rachel and licked her face enthusiastically as Quinn tickled her until she screamed with laughter.

Finn still wasn't speaking to her, and she didn't really care much. She was more upset that he hadn't forgiven Puck yet, but she knew she didn't have any business with their friendship. She was just happy he was keeping Rachel's secret to himself. He'd been cruel before, she knew, but this would reflect negatively on him as well. Letting loser Rachel Berry steal his girlfriend wouldn't make him any more popular, and would probably tank it, once they found out about her addition. To further avoid everyone, he'd quit Glee. They'd tried requiting but still, they were short a male until Dave Karofsky wandered in and asked, with a frown, "That Berry girl here?"

Mr. Schuester stuttered for a moment then said, "Not today, Dave. She has a job so she's here only on Mondays."

"Oh." He seemed a little bummed out, then asked them, "Anybody know how to get in contact with her? I need to talk with her."

Puck said he did and they spoke quietly. Everyone was so quiet, though, that they could hear Karofsky say it was something personal and then Puck gave him her number with the promise that if he harassed her, he'd personally bash his face in with a two by four. Karofsky smirked and left silently.

Karofsky did call that night just before dinner - take out again, and she was contemplating learning to cook just to get more variety - and Rachel called him afterwards. They talked that night, Karofsky and Rachel, and then afterwards, and pretty much every night for the rest of the week. Whatever he said to her was so personal that if she was in the room with Rachel, Rachel would go in her room until they were done. By the next Monday, he was in Glee and practicing with everyone else. He'd slacked off on the bullying and actually helped Hummel out of a dumpster. Karofsky had a good voice besides that, deeper than Finn's and much less prone to cracking. Between him and Puck, Glee club didn't seem to have suffered much.

Sectionals approached, costumes were tailored, and they were on the bus. She and Rachel shared her iPod on the long bus ride, forcing each of them to listen to Mr. Schuester's random pep talks, inspired by everything from the wind blowing through the trees to the sound of a car backfiring when the bus driver got lost in Lima Heights Adjacent.

And then once they got there, they were floored. Not by the talent, but that their set list had been stolen and dispersed to the other schools. They could try, but after the deaf kids' version, they'd sound way too good and lose points. They all felt it; the sudden flood of futileness, there was no way they could win now. Mr. Schuester tried another pep talk but they were so desensitized that they'd have reacted better if Miss Pillsbury tried a pep talk.

She didn't.

Sitting in silence, Rachel stood up, ran her hand over her face and asked, "Are we going to give up?"

No one said anything, then Mercedes said, "Well, yeah. They took our set list. Someone leaked our set list."

"I bet I know who," Kurt said, looking at Brittany and Santana. Santana bared her teeth at him and he quickly crossed himself. Brittany pulled Santana onto her lap to keep her still.

"So, we're exactly the losers everyone said we were?" Rachel asked. This question wasn't rhetorical either. No one answered for a while, before Tina asked, "W-w-w-w-w-w-hat are we s-s-s-s-s-"

"Stop talking," Santana commanded. "Your fake stutter is giving me a headache."

Artie piped up, "Her stutter is not fake!"

"Right," She rolled her eyes. "Her stutter's as fake as my cock."

"That's fake?" Puck murmured to Karofsky, and they dissolved into giggles.

Artie opened his mouth again and Santana moved to crowd his space, while Mercedes was starting to yell at Matt because he'd dropped something. The group dissolved into loud bickering for a few moments before Rachel screamed at a decimal that seemed unholy. Everyone clutched their ears.

She smiled perkily, "Thank you. Now, as I was going to say before this dissolved into Jersey Shore's Midwestern cousin, the show must go on. We've done some other performances, and the rules don't say anything about the entire group having to be on stage at once. We can do a group performance, a solo, and a duet."

"My solo's shot," Mercedes complained.

"Well, we'll have to find another. Any volunteers besides myself?"

Kurt cleared his throat and Santana said, "Here, Berry."

"My range is much larger," Kurt protested.

"My foot is -"

"Santana!" The teachers warned.

"Right," Rachel said, indifferent. "So, Kurt. Do you have anything you can do easily?"

He licked his bottom lip, thinking. Quinn noticed Karofsky watching the movement, and realized, suddenly, why he needed to talk to Rachel so much.

"Maybe something from Wicked. Ugh, but there's also -"

"Get on with it," Dave said. "We've got twenty minutes and if you keep going through musicals, we'll never be done."

He admitted, "No."

"Santana?"

She grumbled, "No."

Rachel nodded, "Very well. I have something I've been preparing since I was four, so that will have to do. Any one for the duet?"

Karofsky raised his hand and then, rather hesitantly, Tina.

"Tina, do your scales." Tina did as told, and then Rachel tossed Tina her iPod. She caught it.

"'Nine Crimes' by Damien Rice."

Karofsky and Tina bent over the iPod and talked genially.

"Group number suggestions?" Rachel asked.

They were quiet before Kurt grimaced, "I hate to say this, but Journey. The choreography is simple, everyone knows the lyrics."

"Everyone in agreement?"

They all were, then shuffled around in the small space to practice clumsily. Quinn hoped things would come together. She didn't like the club much, but even if they just placed, it'd be a sign to Coach Sylvester that she could do more than cheer, be more than just a pretty face. She could be a part of something special.

They were something special, out on stage. Everyone buzzed with excitement, but Rachel? Rachel **glowed** like sunshine as she danced and sang her heart out. When they got that standing ovation, the Berry parents were the loudest of them all.

Something about it was unfairly attractive. She wasn't sure if it was just the buzz from performing or if watching Rachel perform was what did it for her or **what** but they stumbled into a janitor's closet and her hands were everyone on Rachel. Her breasts - just barely contained, and then bare and brown and absolutely perfect, oh God, perfect for her mouth, but then **Rachel's** mouth was lonely, the poor thing - and her tight little stomach, then below and into her underwear, and Rachel gasped into her mouth as she held her firmly, thumb pressed against her most sensitive area, and then just a handful of pumps and warmth spread across her hand. She took her hand out, panting almost as hard as Rachel, and then licked most of her taste off. She was sweet, almost, a little bitter, but not overly so. Better than the dark chocolate she'd been eating, at least. Rachel moaned again, dropped to her knees and pulled Quinn's dress up. She didn't even lift Quinn's underwear out of the way, just descended on her like a starving animal; mouth, tongue, her hand when she could, and Quinn came unraveled as well, in a manner embarrassingly easy. They cleaned up and were kissing again, gently, when the closet door opened and most of the Glee club stared at them.

"Holy fuck," Was the general consensus. Mike fainted. A woman gasped as she passed by, probably at the language, when the announcement that they were the winner's came over the PSA. The group had a moment of stillness then picked up Mike's prone body, pulled Rachel and Quinn out of the closet, before they ran out to get their trophy. Quinn thought she passed a woman that looked a little familiar, but they were back on stage, someone had gotten Mike to wake back up and he was a little woozy so they propped him up between Puck and Karofsky.

They made sure that neither Puck nor Santana had the microphone, but Rachel and Kurt were sobbing into each other's arms, and Quinn glared when they tried to give it to her, so they let Artie stumble through a speech about adversity and overcoming issues.

As they walked away, Quinn was almost certain that someone was watching them. She forgot about it completely as Rachel crawled onto her lap, kissed her sleepily, and fell asleep promptly on the bus ride. Quinn watched her as the moonlight came in through the window and sighed softly into her hair in contentment before falling asleep as well.


	12. Interlude, Part One

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

**Interlude, part one**

Rachel had, of course, known Quinn since her very earliest memories. Not in the literal sense, but the people that were like what Quinn would become; brave but unsure, half hoping someone would take their lives into their hands to stop them from making decisions, but unwilling to give up their freedom. She knew it in the same way she knew that she was going to be a star someday, that her fathers loved her, that sunsets would always happen, burning the sky orange and red and yellow, and then lightning until the gradual navy blue took over, and night had settled; that night would always come. She knew Quinn, somehow, without ever exchanging more than five words with her in the third grade, most of their interaction smiles and gestures, in the half wild way of children, before the world tamed them. Quinn was a girl with sad eyes, had always been, and sometimes Rachel lightened the sadness, but most times, she did not.

Even now, when so many different things were going on – high school! Pregnancy! Glee club! – Quinn was **busy**, and she knew because Rachel was busy, but she also remained sad. Maybe Quinn was just one of those people that were all sadness, that were born with melancholia in their bones, and were not depressed, no, but a constant sort of ache surrounded them and perforated everything they did.

Having sex with Quinn that night had been sad, somehow. It was not making love, because she knew that Quinn did not want her, not really, but wanted someone to stay, and she herself had been too drunk and stupid and love-drunk, even, thinking of the beautiful girl who kissed her that once then terrorized her, trying to exorcise her demons in the best way she knew how, and had somehow thought that being with Quinn would help her, would stretch the sadness until it became a thin film, not quite an ache anymore. But her memories of that night were – hazy, indistinct, half remembered sensations of skin on skin and the burning feel when she first entered Quinn and Quinn's fingers had dug into her shoulder blades while her mouth bit at Rachel's bottom lip until she drew blood and the whole time, was aware of Quinn's twisting legs, unwilling to let go but feeling pain at the sensation. She had waited long minutes for Quinn to adjust, for Quinn to thrust her hips and grunt, "Move, stupid."

And move she had. There was the dragging sensation and the fascination of Quinn's exposed breasts, and Quinn seemed self-conscious of that, at the least, would let Rachel touch her below, because there was hair and it was dark, but just barely let her see her bright, rosy nipples, hard in her arousal to match her wetness. For a few, brief moments, she'd given Quinn pleasure, had let herself stop feeling the sense that it was up to her to keep Quinn happy, to make Quinn happy, to make sure that Quinn knew that **someone** liked her and knew her and perhaps, one day, could even love her. That afternoon in the choir room also meant a lot to her because **Quinn** was sober and wanting and had touched her first, had seen her and continued to want her. It was an affirmation. Sectionals was also an imperative day, watching Quinn lick her cum off and moan lowly at the taste. It was more than just an emotional connection, but they had physical chemistry as well.

Of course, they were paying for that brief moment of pleasure with nine to ten months of pain. She wondered if Quinn thought it was worth it, but instead turned onto her side and stared at the long, sleeping eyelashes of the woman lying next to her. She counted the freckles of her nose and marveled at the healthy glow to her pale skin, making her almost radiant. Their baby was in Quinn, she thought, and the thought was still not permanent to her. She was stupid, probably, to not only be this invested in something that wasn't born yet or even sure of anything, on Quinn's part. Their half-baked plans were the same as many teenagers, even if the situation was a little more on the unusual side of things, but the swell to her stomach and the dresses stretching across her abdomen and breasts lent reality to this thing, this change.

They were going to graduate high school, they were going to get out of Lima, they were going to raise the baby together to the best of their abilities. Perhaps even beyond that. They'd read the books, they'd go to the meetings, they'd talk to their son or daughter or bi-gendered or no-gendered child and learn what they were interested in and would not feed that child a dream they'd made up before he or she or zim or it could even talk yet.

They would raise the baby to be happy, they would raise the baby to be healthy, and the waves of contentment at her plan soothed her mind a little. She was constantly worried, now, that somehow she'd drop the baby and the baby would know as he or she or zim or it got older and resent the ever living Hell out of her, or that somehow, she'd be a dead beat parent and Quinn would hate her. That was worse because she knew Quinn and knew that Quinn had never hated her; had feared what she represented, yes. Had felt strong emotions that she played off as hate, yes. But actual hate for Rachel and everything she represented? Not on her life.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy over the bed. Christmas would be here soon. They didn't celebrate Thanksgiving in the Berry household, but Christmas was going to be gaudy and bright and disturbing enough that Quinn would probably run shrieking in another direction, if her relatives didn't get there early enough. They were like her, but not; loud and boisterous and attention seeking, but so many of them, shouting over the other, it would probably make Quinn uncomfortable and, unlike her, they would not stop to let her regroup.

She snuggled down into her covers and breathed in the scent of her pillow and Quinn's hair until she drifted off to sleep again for a few hours.

The week leading up to Christmas kept Rachel and everyone busy. They unpacked the Christmas decorations from the basement, bought a tree, debated over where the tree went, only to find that Quinn was freaking allergic to pine needles and kept sneezing when someone crushed them underfoot, so they were constantly sweeping under the tree skirt and throwing them in the fire.

Papa had made the fire, big and constantly burning, turning their house into a soft, cozy place. At the end of Sectionals, he'd seen how they'd responded to one another, and his thought that Quinn was out to hurt her, had gotten herself intentionally pregnant in order to bind them together, the way some athlete's girlfriends did, his disappointment in both of them had faded into a muffled discontent and that was probably the best they were going to get. Papa was a father foremost and any indication that his child was having a relationship would probably have turned him cold, bitter. He looked eagerly at the ultrasound pictures, though, and printed a wallet sized version from the disc the clinic gave them to put next to one of her baby pictures.

The sadness in Quinn's eyes had almost become palpable with the picture, seeing the grey scale blob of Baby Fabray next to Rachel's own infant picture, fists balled up, hair swept back from her face and staring up with her large brown eyes. Rachel knew it was because her parents had not contacted her again, rather than her own melancholy. Most of Quinn was a mystery; her cruelness, her sweetness, her base emotions and thoughts, but her sadness and anger were always things that Rachel understood. There was no letter, no phone call, no sign of recognition that Quinn was alive at all if not for her surname. Abba-leh had asked if Quinn wanted to tell the school, in order for them to either take her back or give up custody of her, but Quinn was hesitant to do that. She'd explained, haltingly, that they were still her parents and she would honor their decision.

She was a good daughter, despite what Quinn thought, because Rachel knew if it had been her, Hell would have rained around her. She'd have called D.C.F., would have told the school, alerted the news, maybe even bruised herself so she could claim physical abuse if she thought it would help her case. The idea that it might be overkill never seemed to enter her mind, and the idea of saying something had only briefly entered Quinn's mind.

Rachel shuttled the thoughts away and crept out of the bed early in the morning, just after six. She often slept in Quinn's room, just for the closeness, and although her father's knew, she thought it best to keep up the pretense and tiptoed into her own room, shuffling the blankets so that they looked slept in, then wiggling her toes inside her socks with the cold. The cold front had been remarkably late, only sweeping in two days ago, and everyone was still staggering to adjust. Winter clothes were pulled out, new ones bought, fires lit like their own, Christmas trees bought now that the weather seemed to know what it was doing. There were rumors to be a dusting of snow and she couldn't wait. It was too cold for snow at the moment but everything water had frozen over. Not just to show off – because yes, showing off was a big part of the Rachel Berry Package, but was not the only aspect of the package – but just to frolic. In snow, she had her happiest memories, her clearest acoustics, her favorite time of year. Snow had marked the very day of her birth.

"You were born in a manger, with the animals surrounding you," Papa would say stoically and Rachel would look half afraid at Abba-leh, who shook his head.

"You were born in a hospital," He respond gently.

Papa would speak louder, "I pulled you out myself. You were a gross baby. Cute, but gross. Covered in blood and squealing, it was like holding a pig."

Abba-leh would have no objections and she was almost ten before she realized that Papa could never have helped give birth. Papa could hardly ever make a sandwich when he was nervous, he'd have dropped her the moment he realized what was going on. Still, it had been a nice story. A couple of days before her birthday, she told Quinn the story and Quinn smiled a little.

"My mom was in labor with me for fifteen hours," Quinn only said. "They never said where my – Russell was."

Rachel tried to imagine it. Fifteen hours of squeezing something the size of a football out of one of the tubes she peed through – she had two bladders, each hooked up to a urethra, but only one set of kidneys, which was why she only drank water – was nothing short of painful to consider. Her respect for Quinn only rose.

Her idea, now, though, was to shower. She pulled out her clothes and then headed to the bathroom. Most of the time, Rachel found that paying attention to her outfits was like playing Russian Roulette with patterns and textures. For the most part, she was often more fascinated with the characters or patterns than what the outfit looked like once the ensemble was completed. It resulted in her being asked at least twice a week if she was colorblind.

She looked at herself in the mirror and stared. Every morning, she did this, just to prepare herself for what was coming from the outside world. Her best features were her eyes and mouth; both were big, and her eyes were shadowed by her long eyelashes, making them somewhat ambiguous. Her lips was full and her mouth itself was wide, so it was proportional, rather than taking up occupation of her whole lower face. Her nose did enough of that, really, and she touched the bridge of it, remembering Quinn's fascination with her nose in the drawings. She would have picked out more flaws, but it was cold in the bathroom, so she quickly stripped, turned the shower onto as hot as it would go, and dived into the shower. She scrubbed herself clean within minutes, then sat around as the heat drove the chill out of her bones. Rachel turned the water off, but dried off in the shower still, the residual heat keeping her from shivering. They had heated floors, but they hadn't gotten them in the bathroom.

She pulled on her clothes, and was halfway down the stairs when she heard something that didn't belong. Her acute hearing, or as Puck called it her 'Jedi powers', was often her first and only sign that something was different. It was a Saturday, the first day in a two week vacation, and her fathers were asleep. There should not have been the scrape of utensils on plates or slightly loud breathing. Rachel crept down the stairs silently, then reached around the bannister and pulled the baseball bat out of its hiding place. She hauled it up like they'd taught her in soft ball when she was younger, gripping the cool metal tightly, and walked on the balls of her feet, evenly distributing her weight, every step soundless. Rachel could admit to being overly dramatic, but even she was not prepared for the scene in front of her.

Four of her cousins and her uncle sat at the breakfast nook, and the bat fell with a clatter. All of them looked up and Uncle Jessup rolled his eyes, before saying in his deep drawl, "Lawd, girl, if we were burglars we sure wouldn't be in this kitchen. Nobody wants some 'spresso maker you can hardly work."

Rachel felt her mouth stretch into a grin and she launched herself at her uncle. He was Papa's brother, southern as the day was long, and he hugged her tight to him before pressing a whiskery kiss to her cheek. His dark eyes were just as friendly and sweet as ever, and she was suddenly surrounded by her cousins. Darren and Jess were fraternal twins, but still very similar in looks, taking after her Aunt Darcy's Mongolian features. Raylan and Saran resembled Uncle Jessup more, but they were all very close in age and attitude. They were all larger than her and she was nearly buried in their collective warmth. She stayed still for a little while, soaking up the familiarity, then grumbled, "Alright, alright, let me up."

They released her, but she couldn't help smiling at all four of them. She saw the triplets more, normally during the summer, but she couldn't help the fact that this was her family and she loved and missed them, especially now that they were all in college.

She took a seat at the breakfast nook and Uncle Jessup sipped from his thermos. He must have remembered the contraption that was the coffee maker that Abba-leh had bought a couple of years ago that no one could work. "How've you been, honey bee?"

Rachel tried to decide what to say. Should she say she was doing fine or that she was a little worried or that she'd impregnated a strict, Christian girl who was sleeping the floor above them?

Finally, she decided on something neutral. "Busy," She finally said. "Very busy."

He hummed but Jess laughed, "And what've you got to be busy with?" His drawl was less pronounced, evening out with his residency in California, going to UC Merced. Saran's was probably deeper, living in the heart of Texas at Baylor University, but she didn't say anything.

"I have a job now, in addition to my volunteer work and school," She replied, and received claps and ooh's from her cousins while her uncle rolled his eyes.

"Saving up for college?" Raylan asked her, brushing her bangs from her eyes. She had beautiful eyes that seemed to have come out of nowhere, as no one else in either family had them; they were large, green eyes, framed by long eyelashes with flecks of blue in them. She and Saran were nearly identical besides that and Saran's sharper, more defined features.

Rachel shrugged, and then hunched her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she should talk to them about it, was unsure if it would be well received and her very posture spoke of it. As much as she wanted to be an actress, hiding her insecurities was her hardest part, especially around people she was close to. She'd been rather good at hiding her interest and attraction and even her resentment of Quinn until they'd gotten closer and by then the resentment had faded. It was hard for her to hold grudges.

Uncle Jessup propped his head up with the palm of his hand, "Y'all go in the living room. Lemme talk to my niece."

They left without asking why and Darren kissed the top of her head gently.

He waited for the sound of the television to turn on and asked her, "What's wrong, honey bee?"

Rachel bit her lip, then, haltingly, explained the situation and in simple words, it sounded like something trivial, insignificant, not her life or Quinn's life or the developing life of their child.

The sun rose slowly as she talked, until pink light entered the kitchen from the window and stained the floor. It made Uncle Jessup hard to see, and she finally stopped, looking down at the countertop.

He was quiet for a while.

"Well," Jessup exhaled, "sounds like you in a whole heap of trouble."

She didn't respond.

Rachel felt his eyes on her and there was the scrape of the canister against the counter, a short silence, then a thud as it was placed on the counter again. Finally, he asked, "You like this girl? This Quinn?"

Her mouth opened and she was, for a moment, perplexed. She liked Quinn, yes, was attracted to her, was willing to help her and take care of the baby and liked learning about Quinn, thinking about Quinn, but did she like Quinn as a person? Quinn could be petty and rude and sometimes just plain mean, but she could also be sweet and lovely and when she was not insecure or sad, fun and she liked Rachel which was just as important to her as anything else. She did not tell him about the plans or how they'd known each other before or the bullying or anything, really, but the bare facts and how she'd felt, but there were just so many that the story dragged on.

"I think I do," She finally said, still looking at her hands. "And even if I didn't, I'd still help because it's half of my fault as well."

"You're getting to be an adult," He smiled a little, thin lips lifting at the edges.

She shook her head and said, "I'm just trying to do what I need to do."

After a minute, he patted her shoulder and stood up. He was tanned and rangy, all long limbs and she could see the fair hair on the nape of his neck. Papa was adopted, and there'd been strong controversy in their tiny town, a Black boy living with "decent White folk" but they'd persevered.

She stood as well and felt hungry for the first time since she woke up. She made herself toast, then glanced at the time, and made a second batch of toast for Quinn. Her nausea had abated, but she had very little taste and Rachel had caught her drinking the condensed, sweetened milk that Papa normally used for his baking experiments. Rachel made eggs as well, the soy based product, considering that Quinn really couldn't tell the difference. She put the plate on the table just as Quinn stumbled in, blinking, and whispered, "Who are they?"

She smiled, "Those are my relatives. The older man is Uncle Jessup, and his wife couldn't come. The boys are Darren and Jess, Darren is the taller of the two. The girls are Raylan and Saran and Raylan is the one with the green eyes."

Quinn nodded, blinking hard. "Oh," She replied, and then said, puzzled, "It's not Christmas yet."

She smiled, "I know. Most of my family arrives here beforehand."

"Oh," Quinn repeated herself, and sat at the table. Rachel slid the plate over and chewed on her piece of toast. She didn't watch Quinn eat because that would have been creepy. She was kind of creepy, she finally thought, especially considering she sometimes woke up early and watched Quinn sleep. And it wasn't like she was attracted to Quinn sleeping, because there was nothing attractive about someone lying prone and unable to respond, but rather she liked seeing that Quinn was relaxed and calm, it just so happened that it normally only happened when she was asleep.

Somehow, after her uncle came, it seemed that the floodgates opened. Before the day was out, her aunts Julie and Cameron had come in from New Hampshire and Boston with their brood, her Uncle Rodney had flown in from California with his three kids, and Aunt Jan handled Bubbe on the flight from Florida. Bubbe didn't believe that Christmas was Christmas without snow, and this year, Papa's family was coming as well. She was excited, was practically in her element, but already Quinn had retreated to her room, overwhelmed by the noise and play fighting. Aunt Clara brought Grammy to the Christmas party as well and by then it was time for dinner. There were so many people that going to a restaurant seemed redundant, since they would take up the entire venue, but cooking would require batches and personal taste mattered.

They finally came to an agreement to leave and eat in small groups so everyone could eat what they wanted. Rachel brought Quinn downstairs and was immediately put in a car with two of the triplets, Dylan and Tommy, and Aunt Julie's stepdaughter, Saddler. Tommy drove and Rachel could tell Quinn was more at ease with the small group than she was with the many relatives. At the least, no one had made any comments on her pregnancy, even now that they were all together in the car.

The group couldn't decide what to eat so eventually decided on the mall in Dayton. No one was expecting them back any time soon, at the least, and the drive gave them time to get reacquainted. Being relatives didn't make a good relationship, it just helped speed the process of forced companionship along. They spent most of the drive getting Quinn to speak. Rachel could have told them that directly asking her wouldn't help them, but let them bash their heads against her wall instead of giving them the lengthy responses they wanted.

The mall was a mess of noise and smells, and everyone was almost immediately separated. She was close to Dylan when she turned to see if Quinn liked the boots on display but Quinn was not hovering at her elbow, as she had since she'd first been introduced to everyone. She forced herself not to worry and walked around with Dylan until they ended up in a small boutique for children.

Dylan rubbed his arms, muttering, "This place is creepy. Aren't kids supposed to get dirty or something? Why's everything expensive as shit?"

Rachel gave him a blank look, "I have no clue. I've never stepped into one before. I assumed it'd be somewhat in my price range." She looked at a tag on a bodysuit and gave up. "I might be able to afford a pacifier from here, but I'm hoping it's made of human flesh for this amount."

"You're buying some clothes for your friend's baby?" He asked.

"Girlfriend," She corrected him, "And he or she or it or zim is my baby as well."

Dylan's jaw dropped, "You're like twelve! I ought to spank your hand, you're way too young for that."

"I'm fourteen," She protested. "And I turn fifteen tomorrow."

He was sputtering, blindsided by the revelation, and Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically, turning around to see if there was anything that caught her eye. Something did catch her eye and she couldn't resist her smile at the sight of Quinn's long blond hair, flipped out of her coat, and very pale in comparison to the black winter jacket she was wearing. She walked over jauntily, intent on standing near Quinn and kissing her cheek and watching her smile, when she saw who was standing in front of Quinn and felt herself pale.

She had no clue who this woman was, had never met her before, but she honestly couldn't help the gasp that she released.

It was not that she was ugly or handicapped or anything with a negative connotation at all.

It was the simple fact that looking at this woman's face was very much like looking into a mirror that showed the future.


	13. Chapter 12

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Chapter 12 –

Being with the Berry's was a lot like being in a carnival where everyone was related. It was loud and noisy and there were actually a fair blend of smells, with so many people packed indoors and trucking in and out with food. Getting out with Rachel had been a relief, even if it was with three relative strangers. None of them looked very much like Rachel, except for Saddler, and Saddler was a step child. Even then, it was only in base appearances of being a brunette with brown eyes. Rachel was darker than Saddler and her features were very different, at times softer and other parts more angled. Dylan and Tommy were identical, but Tommy had a Mohawk dyed purple and orange while Dylan's tattoo peeked out from his collar. Their other brother, Marcy, had gages big enough for Quinn to fit two fingers through and a dog collar with a bell on it. And besides that, all three of them were fair haired and had gray eyes as well as Nordic features, like their father.

Rachel was a sort of middling child. The Jewish side of the family was very pale and the Black side of the family was more varied, differing shades of brown, but nothing as close to tan or golden as Rachel. Rachel didn't seem to pay any of it any attention and Quinn found herself sitting next to Dale when she wasn't trying to escape in her room. Dale was very quiet and polite and more than once, got her a water bottle when he heard her clearing her throat. He didn't seem attracted to her anymore and she was briefly concerned as to whether it was because she was living with Rachel – which she really wouldn't have minded because some part of her liked the idea of being marked, of other people knowing about them – but the larger part of her was certain it was because her pregnancy was showing. She wasn't so much upset that he wasn't into her as to what it meant.

She was rounder now, and while Rachel seemed entranced, she knew she was becoming less conventionally attractive. She had a paunch and when she looked down, it was harder to see her shoes. Her stomach had been fluttering around anyways, reminding her that it was too big. Her face was rounder now and her mood swings were more prominent to the point where she'd snapped at Brittany. She was more insecure now, she could admit, and some days, normally Saturdays, when Rachel woke her up with soft, gentle kisses and caresses, she just couldn't control her libido. She'd gotten aroused during school just about every day that week by stupid, miscellaneous things, and had more than taken it out on Rachel once they were home.

Her parents were starting to trust Rachel again, and they'd been left alone all of four times the past month, but each time for hours, even a weekend once. They'd made good work of that time alone. Most of the time, it was just talking and they had tried oral sex once, when they were sure that Rachel's dads would be gone for a while. It'd been awkward, to be sure. Rachel seemed fairly big to Quinn, but was so very pretty. Her skin was golden-brown down there too and her head purple and thick. She was wide enough to stretch Quinn's lips some and she'd tried to cover her teeth to ensure that she didn't hurt Rachel. Still, Rachel had hissed a few times, when she'd forgotten, and had not been afraid to say, "A little softer, please."

Rachel made sure that Quinn could control the pace, hands under her ass, legs twitching to keep from bucking upwards and ramming it down her throat, sounds high-pitched and stuck in her throat. There hadn't been much taste throughout the blowjob, just sensation, and she'd definitely gotten wet at the sounds her girlfriend made. Even though they'd discussed it earlier, Rachel had still tried to pull her away to release, the entire time making nonsense noises. Quinn had stayed down, pushing the hands away, and swallowed her cum. Bittersweet and thick, it spread across her mouth like warmed dark chocolate; there was a vaguely acidic aftertaste, but it faded quickly. Rachel had seemed more skilled, though, between her legs. It felt like her tongue and actual lips were everywhere, nearly sucking her orgasm out. Rachel was exceedingly gentle, tongue in circular patterns, her own fingers holding herself open so Rachel could dive even deeper. Rachel's fingernails dug into her hips, leaving shallow red furrows, in an effort to keep from touching her, and she felt a deep sort of smugness that her beautiful girlfriend who always seemed to be in control of herself was having trouble not touching her.

It was, however, mostly kissing and reading and Rachel babbling to her baby bump now that it was more defined. She had never expected that being crowded so much could be cute, but every time she thought she would be irritated, Rachel would have a tiny little smile on the edges of her mouth or her eyes would be bright with – something and the irritation would dissipate, replaced with fondness and love for her other.

But that was then, this was now. And the now was peppered with people who wanted to know how they'd met, how far along was she, was it a girl or a boy, did they have names picked out; with just Rachel, Quinn was okay with not knowing exactly what to do, but with so many people asking her, she felt obligated to respond, but "We're not sure yet" was becoming increasingly invalidating.

And somehow, Rachel was perceptive enough to know that she didn't want to be in a house full of strangers who bore less than a passing resemblance to Rachel and invited her to the mall. Being with anonymous strangers meant that she wouldn't have to play nice with them or anything. She could be rude, she could be mean, she could leave at the first sign that this was not something she wanted to hear.

The car ride was a dull affair. She and Rachel were tucked into the same seat of the rather motley van, and it smelled faintly of piss and more strongly of mold. There was a suspicious stain on the floor of the van and they'd both lifted their feet as soon as they were possible. Rachel was small enough that her knees touched her chest comfortably and Quinn did feel more awkward, more unattractive. It was just hard. Rachel was beautiful, downright tiny, even had the exotic down pact in their relationship with her olive complexion and long dark hair. Quinn had been pretty self-assured that she was attractive and would probably remain so, but she hadn't accounted for pregnancy. The weight wasn't just in her stomach; it was gathering in her thighs, in her ass – which really didn't need any more weight – along with her face.

The mall was crowded, probably with the late Christmas rush, and she almost immediately swept along in the wave, away from almost all of the others. Saddler was nearby, and they walked next to one another.

"How far along are you?" Saddler asked, shouting over the din.

Quinn could barely hear her, but mentally counted, "Sixteen weeks."

"What?" Saddler yelled, unable to hear.

"Sixteen weeks!" She replied, louder.

Saddler still couldn't hear, apparently, and pulled her into one of the quieter stores. It was cooler immediately, and they were both flushed from the heat of so many people in an enclosed space. This way, Saddler looked a little more like Rachel, and Quinn said, "I'm sixteen weeks."

"Then you've come to the right place!" Someone said behind them, and they jumped in surprise. The woman behind them had her hair in an updo as well as in what seemed a uniform of a black shirt and black pants; stitched into the black shirt was a techno colored rattler. They'd stumbled into a children's boutique, apparently, and this woman smelled a sale.

They assured the woman that they were just browsing, did not need help, and then set off to look around. Perhaps it was because they were both outsiders in the tight-knit family, but they found themselves getting along pretty well, now that Saddler knew for sure. They ooh'ed and aah'ed over adorable little bibs and Saddler found a white one with a star motif and they agreed that it was perfect for any child that was part Rachel. Saddler never asked awkward questions and didn't hover, going to the bathroom and leaving Quinn alone without asking if she would be okay alone, as Rachel tended to.

The store wasn't very crowded, and she was looking at bodysuits when a woman bumped into her shoulder gently and said, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Quinn looked up to say that it was fine, and was, for a moment, utterly stunned. She openly gaped. The woman's brow furrowed, in a gesture Quinn was obscenely familiar with, and said, "Miss, are you alright?"

She licked her lips, blinking hard to snap out of her trance, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, you just heavily resemble someone I know."

It was hard to pinpoint where, exactly, she looked like Rachel or if she'd just superimposed Rachel's features onto the older woman, but it was definitely a stark resemblance. They could almost be confused for twins, really, but she'd mapped Rachel's features out more often than not. Besides, Rachel was wearing one of her color blind outfits again. She'd had on orange skinny jeans with a brown shirt in the house, then a yellow hoodie, then over that a striped gray and black sweater, then over **that** a bright green winter jacket, bright yellow combat boots with flowers everywhere, and a beanie that resembled either a mutated cat or a rabbit, where the strings and tassels hung around her shoulders. The combined look was that her girlfriend was possibly deranged or had let a four year old dress her.

The woman gave her a puzzled look, then her face cleared a little, softened to match the clarity, and said, "Oh, I know what you're talking about. Sectionals, around a month ago? I have a show choir and we went to see the competition for regionals, y'know, do a little scouting. You were in – ugh, I can't remember the name-"

"New Directions," Quinn supplied. The team had probably called them names like 'Nude Erections' or stupid things like what the hockey players called them and that had stuck, rather than their actual name.

She smiled and nodded, "That was it. Yes, your performances were fantastic, especially the solo at the end."

She grinned without really meaning to, "Yeah, that was my other. She's fantastic." Quinn blushed when she realized she'd said other, something she had previously only used in her head. Girlfriend only covered so much, though.

The woman didn't say anything about that, instead, extending a hand, "I'm Shelby Corcoran. I'll be your competition in Regionals, I'm coach for Vocal Adrenalin."

Quinn returned the handshake, "Quinn Fabray." She found herself liking Shelby, as she didn't give her any pitying looks for her pregnancy or scathing looks. It didn't help that she looked like Rachel, which would probably always endear her immediately to someone. They talked for a little while, mostly small talk, still in the same place.

Shelby's eyes turned to the side of Quinn's head and she paled so abruptly, she was momentarily worried that she would faint. Quinn turned as well, and couldn't help the gasp. It wasn't just in her mind, this resemblance. The only ways they differed at first look was with their jawlines, and Shelby's eyes were narrow and green – rather like Judy's now that she looked again – rather than the big brown ones she was used to. There were probably more differences but the overwhelming similarities were shocking.

"Come here," Quinn managed to get out. Rachel looked at her, swallowed hard, blinking her eyes rapidly, and then approached her. She was shaking faintly and Quinn took her hand. The skin was clammy, and even her fingers trembled as she intertwined their fingers.

Shelby continued to look at Rachel, and then said, "You're so much bigger than I thought you'd be."

Rachel just stared at her.

"Did they rename you Rachel?" Shelby asked. She didn't seem to take offense to Rachel's silence.

The girl shook her head. "No," She rasped. "It's my preferred name. My legal name is Spencer."

Shelby bit her lip, "I'm glad they kept it."

It was very quiet for a very long time. Rachel and Shelby stared at one another until Rachel jerked her eyes away and her shoulders hunched, as if they would make implode into herself. Quinn could see some of her reaction, despite her being very close to stunted, and saw it as Rachel all of two seconds away from running away into a corner and crying. Shelby did not seem to be having the same crisis that Rachel was in the middle of.

She'd obviously thought about meeting Rachel again, had lines prepared, and seemed to let them shuttle out without really thinking about it. "I need to tell you something," She started, but Rachel made a strangled noise in her throat, almost a moan, and looked on the verge of throwing up or passing out. She'd taken on a faintly green tinge. Shelby looked concerned, and Quinn was as well. Rachel was normally very steadfast, if a little moody or hyper at irregular intervals, but this had really thrown her for a loop, if not several loops.

"Can we meet in the food court?" Quinn asked in Rachel's stead. "I think she needs a moment."

Shelby nodded hastily, "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'll – I'll meet you at a table near the salad bar."

She guided Rachel to one of the corners of the store as Shelby left, her back to a wall so she could see everything while blocking Rachel's view, and Rachel pressed her face to Quinn's neck. Her breath came out in huge, shuddering gasps, like a panic attack, and the fingers threaded through Quinn's tightened, nearly scrambling for some grounding connection. She murmured into her ear for long moments, just nonsense sounds, until Rachel had calmed down some, and Quinn took a glance around. There were no cousins or nosy women looking, so she lowered herself and pressed a kiss to Rachel's lips. Her lips were dry, chapped, and even there she was shaking.

"Calm down," She said into Rachel's mouth, barely leaving. "Please, calm down."

Rachel swallowed, pressed her lips to Quinn's, and breathed out heavily.

"I've never thought about her," She finally said, rushed, panicked. "My – my biological mother. I mean – I have thought about her, but never outside of the abstract. She was just this womb I came out of, not this person, and I look just like her, what does she want from me? I'm not prepared for this, this was not in the revised fifteen year plan," She rambled.

Quinn let Rachel finish rambling, rubbing her back and scratching at the back of her neck until she'd found Rachel's "off switch." Gerard called the area just below the nape of her neck, where the vertebrae of her spine were most visible, especially the largest one, that, as it calmed down Rachel and put her into what could be considered a trance of satisfaction. Rachel shut up, nearly melting into her embrace with what was almost a purr, and arched into her hand. It always freaked her out because she could pretty much do anything to Rachel and Rachel would pretty much roll over and take it. She moved her hand back down, to the small of Rachel's back, and could feel everything rushing back to Rachel swiftly in how she tensed up.

Quinn took her free hand and placed it on Rachel's neck. She could feel the pulse under her palm, hot, feathery, very rapid, and ran her fingers across the skin there, then up, to behind Rachel's ear, where it was warmer than normal because of the hat. She pressed her hand along the side of Rachel's face, somehow knowing the contact would soothe her. Slowly, gradually, the tension leaked out of Rachel, and she pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Better?"

Rachel smiled faintly, the curve of her smile pressed into Quinn's hand, "A little. I didn't know you could do that."

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. It'd been mostly instinct and the strong desire to comfort Rachel, who felt everything so strongly. Rachel nuzzled into her palm, kissed the space in between the longest lines, and swallowed again. "I think I can do it," She said. She looked like a little girl afraid of getting in trouble. Her eyes were huge, so soft and trusting, it was like Quinn was her entire world. A small part of her was terrified but a bigger part was more than entranced, because Rachel was rapidly making her way into being the only part of the universe that Quinn could understand.

"C'mon," She said, and tugged Rachel along until she walked of her own volition.

Shelby was sitting where she said she'd be, with two seats reserved in front of her.

"Grab a seat," She said to Rachel, who gave her a terrified look, but sat down. Quinn left her and Shelby at the table and went to grab two salads and a small churro with chocolate sauce from the kiosk. Rachel loved them; they were one of her few non-vegan indulgences, but Quinn found them too sweet. The churro sat on top of one of the salads and she gave them to Rachel, who gave her a small smile, but still looked scared. Quinn didn't blame her, really, and kissed the top of her head before she sat down as well. There was a long silence, and then Shelby seemed to jump into the middle of a script and said, "I was seventeen when I had you."

They glanced at one another, then hastily looked away. Quinn counted the scuff marks on a trash can. That was older than they were now; Rachel wasn't even fifteen for another twelve hours.

Then, Rachel frowned, and said, "I thought you were a surrogate."

Shelby shook her head, "No, not like that. My parents wanted something simple and permanent, your parents were looking for a child, and my parents knew someone who knew their plight. We arranged it, we met beforehand, if that's what you meant. They'd tried a couple of surrogates, I think, but they'd normally back out once they were further along in the pregnancy, maybe four or five months, and they tried to sue once, but the courts nearly laughed them out. They decided that rather than fight and possibly lose for years, they decided to try adoption instead."

She looked at Rachel, just to see what the girl was doing, but Rachel was opening the salad container, and taking bites of it rapidly, possibly so Shelby wouldn't expect an answer. Her leg was shaking in her anxiety and Quinn put a hand on Rachel's knee, rubbing with her thumb along the bone.

Rachel looked at her, flickering her eyes around Quinn's face and then ducked her head a little, stopping her frantic chewing.

"Was I an easy pregnancy?" Rachel asked, after almost a minute of silence, with a very quick glance at Quinn.

Shelby smiled, "After the two months of near constant morning sickness, you were very easy."

Quinn gave Rachel a look, and received a sheepish smile in response. It made her want to kiss Rachel, possibly just reach over and run her fingers through the long hair, but instead, she rolled her eyes at her other.

They ate lunch together, and Rachel didn't talk much. Shelby seemed to be verbose, though, or perhaps had just spent so long thinking about what she wanted to say that she'd be damned if she never talked about it.

"Your father," Shelby said, when they were nearly finished and Rachel had slurped through three slushies. She kept getting up to get them because they were the furthest away from the table and she was too jittery to sit around for so long. At some point, Quinn was fairly certain that the people just put crushed ice in the cup. "Would you like to hear about him?"

"I already have two," She shrugged, "What's one more?"

It was a bit of a rude thing to say, but Rachel didn't seem to regret it from Shelby's perspective, no doubt. Her hand was tight, though, intertwined as it was with Quinn's. Her casual nonchalance and blank mask took Quinn back to the morning after the party, when she'd biked Quinn home. She'd been hiding her insecurities then, Quinn realized, and was doing the same thing now. She did want to know Shelby, her biological father; she did want some connection with these people, and Quinn couldn't begrudge her that.

Shelby was hesitant, then said, after a moment, "He was a year older than me. His name was Alfred, so everyone called him Freddie. You have a lot of his features, I don't know how you look so much like me."

Rachel wasn't going to ask, so Quinn asked, "Features?"

She nodded, "Yeah,that was his build, short and slender. He was probably five three or five four. Same eyes, same nose, same mouth, you even have his mole."

Rachel's fingers twitched, as if she wanted to touch the mark, but all she said was, "Was?" She moved her free hand up and started biting on her thumb nail.

Shelby had a soft, small smile, that was unbearably sad, so sad that Quinn felt that this was what loss looked like, in its half-healed form, still aching but no longer a fresh wound, "He got into a car accident the day you were born on the way to the hospital. He was the one that named you."

Rachel looked down at the table thoughtfully, switching her thumb for an index finger, "And that's why you gave me up for adoption?"

Shelby shook her head, but Rachel wasn't looking up to see, "No, we were giving you up regardless. We were kids, there was no way we were ready to be parents. Maybe if we'd been together longer than six months or if we'd have had a better support system, we would have tried, but I don't think you'd have been in the best care. The Berry's did right by you."

Quinn looked at Rachel, thinking of what a wonderful person she was, and agreed, "I think so too." Rachel was still shaking her leg, had chewed through the second cuticle as well, but her face was a little softer, her eyes a little calmer. She wasn't sure if it was Shelby's statement or Quinn's agreeing that had done it, or if it was a combination of the two.

After a moment of utter silence, then Shelby added, "I've never had another child."

That did it. Whatever had been keeping the girl in place vanished, like smoke in the breeze, and Rachel stood abruptly, face a blank mask, and left the table. She walked right out of the food court, probably the mall. Quinn considered going after her, but sighed softly instead and said, "You shouldn't have done that."

Shelby looked numb, "I was just telling her the truth."

Quinn made a fist with her left hand, pursed her lips, "I'll talk to her. Give me your number or a business card, and I'll see what I can do."

The woman fumbled momentarily with her purse, then pulled out a business card – heavy paper, eggshell colored, the ink a deep black – and Quinn slipped it into her own purse. She stood up and looked at Shelby, "I'd tell you this was a pleasure, but it really wasn't. This was sudden and no one was prepared and trying to guilt trip her into talking to you like that definitely doesn't endear you to me."

Shelby looked like she was about to protest, but Quinn continued, "I don't want to hear about it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find her."

She left Shelby with their trash on the table. Searching for Rachel didn't take long. She called Rachel and Rachel answered, without any sort of greeting, "I'm in Sports Authority." Rachel hung up immediately afterwards. The store was near the entrance, but that wasn't why Rachel was there. Tommy was looking at hockey sticks and Rachel was speaking to him rapidly in Hebrew, pacing around him in a circle. He was unbelievably patient, she saw, and only responded when he was sure she wasn't just pausing to breathe. They talked for a while, and then stopped, and Tommy sat on the bench, examining the stick closely. Rachel continued to pace, taking her hat off and running her hands through her hair as she thought, wrapping the tassels around her fist. Sports Authority was less occupied by casual pursuers as the other stores and just about everyone was looking at the special on air rifles and BB guns. Since there didn't seem to be anyone that they knew, she intercepted Rachel's pacing by coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist, pressing herself fully to her back. The layers between them pillowed Rachel's muscles, kept her from feeling Quinn's familiar front, and for a moment, Rachel tensed, but Quinn muttered, "It's me."

Rachel calmed almost immediately, nearly melting into her embrace. She tilted her head back so that her forehead brushed Quinn's chin and the blonde tilted her head so she could press a kiss to Rachel's temple. She held her for a long time, more for herself than Rachel after a while, just to assure herself that Rachel was alive and well and there, achingly present, before Rachel's cell phone rang. Quinn walked away to give her some privacy and looked at the golf section. Russell played every weekend, although she had no particular attachment to the sport.

The conversation was short and Rachel took her hand when she was finished, leaving the store together, then out the mall. Rachel shuddered and pulled the hat on. Quinn stuffed her hands into her black gloves. Tommy was shortly behind them as they went to the parking lot and got into the driver's seat, turning the heat on as they waited for Dylan and Saddler. Rachel leaned against her side as they got comfortable, and Quinn straightened the hat on her head of dark hair. Rachel kept quiet about Shelby, not saying a single word along the trip, until Tommy leaned back and said, "Hey, Spence, how about we get you a tattoo for your birthday?"

"Yeah," Dylan continued, sniggering, "We'll get one right on your dick. It'll say 'all welcome.'"

The brothers laughed at their wit and Saddler looked a little uncomfortable. Rachel was unfazed. "What a staggering display of wit," She said dryly and they both flipped her off, which sent her off into giggling. Her giggling made Quinn laugh just because it was infectious and adorable. Her eyes would squeeze shut, her dimples would come out on full display, her smile would be huge and gorgeous, and she'd even start hyperventilating as her laughter went on because she'd laugh as other people laughed at her because of her laugh until it was a cycle of red faces and tears; if that wasn't adorable, Quinn's middle name wasn't Lucille.

Sure enough, Tommy and Dylan started laughing as well and Rachel kept laughing and because the situation was just that absurd, Saddler startled laughing, and Saddler had such a **weird** laugh, like a hiccuping donkey that had gotten kicked in the ribs – wheezy and loud and somewhat choked off - that everyone else went into peals of laughter. Tommy continued to drive because it was mostly a straight ride and he could laugh hysterically without hitting anyone.

They made it home in one piece and Dylan immediately slipped on a patch of ice, which made them laugh harder. By the time they were in the house, everyone was red-faced and gasping and Quinn collapsed on the couch, Rachel next to her, and the other three found spots on the couch to sit on and lean against until they were pretty much in a huge pile of limbs. Most of the adults had rolled their eyes at the teenagers but now that they were calm, flushes dying down, Gerard was snapping pictures left and right of them. Quinn tolerated the pictures and pushed the hat off to nuzzle Rachel's hair, which smelled a little like sweat but mostly like shampoo and the crisp freshness of winter outdoors.

It was late evening by then, and people started to leave. Tommy, Dylan, and Marcy all left, giving the two of them kisses and teasing Rachel that they'd bring their tattoo supplies tomorrow. Soon, it was just them in the house, along with Rachel's fathers, and she gave Rachel the card now that no one was really around to hear her blow up.

Rachel held it with the ends of her fingers, swallowing hard, rather than saying anything or really looking at Quinn.

"It's a nice business card," Quinn told her, then winced. There was no way Rachel would be as concerned with the aesthetics of it when her entire life was just –

"I like this part," She replied quietly to Quinn. "Where her initials go off the square and you can see the difference between white and eggshell."

"Yeah, me too."

Rachel laid fully on the couch, hair tumbling around her head, like a ragdoll, and Quinn rolled over so that she was behind Rachel on the couch, spooning her from behind. The TV was off so they stared at the fire. For long moments they laid there, lost in the heat and rhythm, and then Rachel's hand reached backwards for Quinn's hip and she stroked her thumb along the arc of bone and muscle.

"I'm going to invite her to my birthday party," Rachel announced. The birthday party wasn't very large, but there were enough people – mostly relatives, Quinn was ashamed to admit that it was probably her fault for that – to cover an additional person. The Gleeks were coming, though, mostly because they owed Rachel for saving their asses in Sectionals, along with Dave, Puck, and some of her coworkers. Winter break was a slow season for the café, despite what should have been a holiday rush, because they depended on college students, and most of them were home, so Rachel hadn't been called into work lately. She was almost starting to miss the caffeine scent that had hung around Rachel for so long, like a mist or perfume. She hadn't gotten Rachel a birthday gift, mostly because she wasn't sure what to get her. Given enough time and affection, Rachel didn't really have wants. Whether that would change when they were together longer, whether it would prove to be a good or bad thing, when Rachel was more or less secure about the relationship would just have to be seen.

"Okay," She replied. It was squarely Rachel's decision and Rachel wiggled from under her and left the room, then up the stairs double time. Quinn took a shower instead of going in the room with Rachel and hearing her side of the conversation. Since they lived together, they often tried to give each other moments of privacy, such as being on the phone and they hadn't showered together because it was more of their "private time." She left and peeked in on Rachel. Rachel was petting Toto's head, legs crossed, visibly excited.

"Hey, what'd she say?"

Rachel grinned, "She said she'd come by. I'm nervous, but it's a good nervous."

Quinn smiled, "Good." She kissed Rachel's forehead, then gave a soft sound as Rachel tilted her head up and kissed her mouth, withdrew, then kissed her again and again in this fashion, slowly bringing them both onto the bed as Quinn followed her mouth. The kisses were so soft and gentle, such emotion present, that Quinn cooed into her mouth, sucking on her tongue. She ended up straddling Rachel, and the dog left, and Quinn continued to sigh softly as Rachel stroked her back. Rachel hissed as Quinn's nails dug into her shoulders and practically crushed Quinn to her. She could feel Rachel's erection pressed against her tummy and angled her hand so that she could grasp her fully. Rachel moaned loudly, tearing her mouth away momentarily.

There was a sudden knock on the open door. "Hey," Jeremiah warned, "Too handsy. Go to bed."

They groaned, but separated. "Quinn, go to your room," He said. She got up without complaint, and kissed Rachel with a soft, "Good night."

Rachel stroked her cheek, "Night."

She passed by Jeremiah and he kissed her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face momentarily. "Night, pretty girl."

She grinned at him, and went to her room. She turned her lights off and closed the door. Her bed was still comfortable and she snuggled into the blankets as she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Rachel bounced into her room, shouting, "It's my birthday!" The Sun was nowhere close to up. She jumped on the bed until Quinn sat up and groaned, then Rachel left and she could hear a muffled scream as she jumped onto her parents bed. She rolled over and smiled to herself, then felt her stomach, especially the distended lower belly. "It's your other mommy's birthday," She whispered, feeling a little silly, but mostly feeling right in this movement, even as Rachel skidded into her room, giggling, and jumped back into her bed. Gerard and Jeremiah were right behind her and fell onto the bed as well, laughing, and began tickling both of them.

The men crowded them together on the bed and she could feel Gerard rub her head as she stared at Rachel's beaming face, and Jeremiah further up behind her.

"Happy birthday, Spence," Gerard said.

"Yeah, baby, happy birthday," Jeremiah continued, kissing the back of Rachel's head.

Rachel looked at Quinn and Quinn couldn't stop a slow, small smile from forming deep in the pit of her being, then out fully.

"Happy birthday," She repeated, and kissed Rachel's nose, aware that her fathers were millimeters away. There was a twitch in the pit of her stomach but she and Rachel were so close that she saw Rachel's eyes widen.

"Quinn," She said reverently, cupping her abdomen with a hand, "How often has that been happening?"

Quinn tried to think, "Maybe a couple of days, three or four days."

"That's the baby," She remarked, and her voice was choked, was nearly silent. "That's our baby."

Quinn's mouth fell open, "Oh my God."

Rachel grinned, and pulled her closer, so close that her hair tickled Quinn's neck, "This has been the best birthday ever."


	14. Chapter 13

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Notes: There is no reason to ever think that being in a relationship makes you better or whole. Being in a relationship means that you're happy with yourself and them, but not that you have met someone who will erase all the things you hate about yourself. Everything here is written from the perspective of lonely, lovestruck teenagers, and should not be taken as actual advice. SECOND: If one does want to see Angelo Page, he's the first image under a Google search of his name.

Chapter 13 –

The Glee kids came to Rachel's birthday party, mostly out of obligation. She'd saved their asses and it was the last they could do. Brittany, Santana, Puck, and Hannah came first, then that folk girl Quinn still didn't really like or know, then pretty much everyone else. Quinn was relieved to see Brittany pull Rachel into a hug. They hadn't had much interaction, either in Glee or outside of it, so the constant roil of her stomach calmed a little to see that Brittany was holding up to her bargain. Rachel's face was momentarily surprised, then she hugged her back, and led her to the snacks.

The folk girl came to every other meeting, sang irregularly with different genres, but wasn't typically engaged in other activities. She hadn't even gone to Sectionals, she'd had to have her tonsils removed or something. Still, Rachel vouched for her. Quinn just knew that the girl was lanky and had been Rachel's friend longer than she was comfortable with. The rest of the group showed up almost at once, and a couple of cousins helped bring Artie down the steps. Neither of their advisors came because it could be deemed inappropriate. The party was actually pretty fun. They played darts and pool, the uncles argued good naturedly over football. The little kids ran around, hopped up from the excitement, then collapsed on whatever lap was closest for dramatic events. Quinn ended up with a little boy, Woodrow, and he giggled hysterically when she started to tickle him. He was warm and his stomach was soft under her fingertips.

Rachel was damn near vibrating, she was so excited. Rachel was always in her element with people and it made her wonder if they would have met if they hadn't gone to the same high school. Would they have met in college, working together on a project? Would Rachel have been a barista, flirty but sweet and giving her a free drink? Would they have even been in the same town? Rachel lived for big cities, was obsessed with them to a degree. There was a shoebox filled with post cards depicting New York, Chicago, Beijing, LA, Miami, London; just about every major city in the world. She never saw Rachel look into the box, but knowing her, it just felt good to know that they were in the room with them. Just as Quinn was thinking it, Rachel descended and kissed the corner of her mouth, and they smiled at one another before Rachel flopped next to her, kicked her shoes off, and curled up next to her. The Glee kids were still around and while they were aware, it was weird to see their friends watch them kiss. Santana was probably anticipating it, really. Since she'd told Santana about Rachel, Santana had been a tiny bit nicer to them, but was curious about Rachel. Quinn figured it was strictly academic, otherwise she'd have approached Rachel already in order to see herself.

"Shelby hasn't gotten here yet," She murmured. Quinn looked at her and bit her bottom lip. She wasn't sure what to say. It was close to five, and beyond that wasn't really an appropriate time to show up. She looked at Rachel, the resigned dimness in her eyes, the bitten bottom lip, and said, "Give me your phone." Rachel did so without asking anything, and her eyes followed Quinn out of the living room and to the sliding door that led outside. Toto shuffled to her, pressed his nose to her knee, and they were both outside. Shelby was under Rachel's recent callers under "S. Corcoran" and she called her.

It took quite a few rings for Shelby to answer, and her voice was groggy, possibly hungover.

"Hello?"

Quinn's voice was shrill, "Where are you?"

"Excuse me?" Shelby asked, voice irritated, "Who the fuck is this?"

She scowled, "It's Quinn. It's almost five thirty, Rachel's party is going to finish soon, and you haven't even called her." The party really wasn't going to finish soon. Some of her cousins had just made a beer run, her coworkers were due to show up soon with God knew what, and she could see some of the men from here, firing up the grill.

She groaned, "Oh my God, I forgot. She gave me her address yesterday, I think I can be there in under half an hour."

"Hurry," Quinn said flatly and hung up.

She kept the phone in her hand as she went back to Rachel. Rachel had stretched out across the couch and was turned towards the crowd, not the sliding door. She was wearing little white socks that were tight around her ankles. It was the first time Quinn had really paid attention to her feet and her ankles were small, delicate, like her wrists. She put her hands on her ankles and squeezed. Rachel let out a squeak and drew her legs to her chest, grinning.

"Stop," She admonished her. Quinn smiled at her innocently, a long running practice from childhood, and Rachel's grin softened into something vaguely iridescent with her happiness.

She lifted Rachel's feet and sat on the couch, then placed them on her lap. Despite their size, Rachel had cute feet, with delicate little toes painted bronze. Jeremiah and Rachel painted their toes every two weeks together, as father/daughter time. Gerard tended to take Rachel on more physical ventures, such as comic books or vegan restaurants.

She rubbed Rachel's feet, pressing the balls of her thumbs into the arch of her feet and Rachel nearly became a boneless mass. She'd heard about feet fetishism before, but didn't think that this was it for either of them. Rather, Rachel was very tactile and Quinn enjoyed being with her. She knew that Rachel was stressing about the baby and Shelby and school, even if she put up a very brave, carefree front. Marcy approached them and handed Rachel a beer, saying, "My gift to you."

Rachel put it back on the table when he was out of sight and said, "I don't really like beer. The makings of it fascinates me, Papa took me to see a localized beer facility. It was surprisingly complex."

Quinn looked down at her, somewhat fondly, "I'll take your word for it."

"We should go," She said enthusiastically. "You'll really like it, I promise, it's like watching Food Network in real time, only with drinks. And there's this company on the side that makes pretzels and peanut butter."

The peanut butter was a tempting offer. It was weird, because she didn't have any particular attachment to it, actually found it somewhat gross as this weird gelatinous mass of something she knew to be solid, but she'd wanted it for a few weeks, and Rachel knew that, so it was practically blackmail.

"You're blackmailing me," Quinn said. Rachel grinned up at her, "It's really just coercion. Blackmailing is such a nasty word."

She rolled her eyes, even as Rachel pulled herself up and leaned forwards so that their noses were pressed together. Her eyes crossed trying to see Rachel, and she giggled at Quinn's face, then kissed her. Quinn found herself smiling into the kiss and kneaded her prominent hip bones until Rachel jerked away and huffed at her, a little sulky glare on display.

"You can't treat me this way," She pouted, "It's my birthday."

Quinn pointed out, "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you can get everything you want."

Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes watered, and immediately one of her aunts – Julie, she thought – came up to comfort her and coo at her. She winked at her from her aunt's shoulder and then nuzzled her neck.

Quinn rolled her eyes so hard she nearly strained something. Spoiled, the absolute worst. The baby was doomed. The door bell rang and she went to the door, and opened it. Three adults stood in front of her, one man with shaved sides and floppy, bleached hair, a Black woman with piercings in her bottom lip and an electric blue poof of hair and cheekbones she could hang off of, and what appeared to be a Latin-American man with curly, black hair with green streaks and a sweet smile. He was darker than Rachel, probably darker than Santana, as well. They came bearing bright gift bags and a huge cake.

"Hello," Said the woman. "We're here for Ray-Ray's birthday."

She backed away from the door, "Come on in. Go straight back and you'll see her on the couch, she's being cuddled."

They dropped the cake off in the kitchen and Quinn followed to make sure that they were going in the right direction. As soon as Rachel caught a glimpse of them, she was up, and her legs were suddenly wrapped around the curly haired guy's waist in a strong hug. He laughed as he spun her around, then put her down so she could hug and kiss her other coworkers. Quinn smiled at the sight, but was a little jealous. She'd noticed that, already, that she was always jealous of anyone who so much as got a smile out of Rachel. Considering Rachel was tickled by just about everything in the world, so the burning feeling happened a solid amount of time. She then found herself blushing as she was introduced to them; Lucas, Mia, and Eddie all said that Rachel talked about her incessantly and was "always smiling goofily." Lucas had a soft, gentle voice, Mia's was rather gravelly, and Eddie's voice was accented (He'd been born in Ecuador, he explained to one of the cousin's later on, and his mom was a Black Latin) and rather loud, if pleasant to listen to. Rachel kept their hands together and leaned against her as they sat on the couch, talking. She was lying completely on Quinn, stroking her side, when the doorbell sounded, faint over the sound, and one of the cousins – Kale, who was an adorable, short, and chubby twelve-year-old girl Quinn had nearly fallen in love with at the first sight of her crooked, gap-toothed grin– opened the door and immediately yelled, "Spencer!"

Rachel rolled her eyes, pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek, and nearly skipped to the door, and her smile was brilliant as her Papa went up behind her.

It was too loud to hear what was going on, but the door closed again and Jeremiah pushed her to go up the stairs before he called, "Gee!"

Rachel stomped over to her, threw herself on top of her so dramatically that she hit the couch, nearly fell off from the impact, before she landed on Quinn, and immediately Quinn ran her hands up and down her back to keep her calm.

Again, Jeremiah yelled, "Gee!"

Gerard came out, finally, and walked over to him. Jeremiah whispered in his ear, and they slipped out the door.

The party continued, even if Rachel was pouting, and she could see them come back in, accompanied by Shelby. Rachel got up using her forearms, which meant that their hips were pressed together so she could see. It also meant she was terribly off balance and Quinn – who still wasn't feeling very confident in Shelby, even if Rachel wanted to talk to her – pushed her off with a gentle nudge. Rachel landed on her ass, but the adults were able to leave without her breathing down their necks.

Tears sparkled in big brown eyes.

"Quinn," Rachel whined. "I was trying to see."

Quinn corrected her, "No, you were being nosy."

"Okay," Rachel affirmed, eyes dry, "I was being nosy. But I was entitled to it!"

She quirked an eyebrow. Rachel gave her a lopsided grin, "I missed the eyebrow. It's very sexy."

Quinn found herself snorting, then sat up on the couch and Rachel pulled her into a standing position. "Come on," She said, and tugged her into the kitchen, where her coworkers were talking with her cousins. Eddie immediately lit up when he saw her and pulled Rachel into another hug. She giggled but hugged him back, then laughed louder as he picked her up unceremoniously and she hung onto his neck like a little monkey. Mia rolled her eyes, "They're like the fucking wonder twins."

Rachel looked happy, so Quinn didn't feel very jealous, although she thought perhaps she should have. They were so playful, though, that it seemed more like a sibling relationship. And then she remembered that Rachel wrote incestuous fanfiction – there'd been a crash course on Supernatural, the relationship between Sam and Dean, and why Destiel was the horror of the universe, and she'd definitely caught Rachel writing when she was supposed to be asleep – and immediately quashed that thought. She was glad Rachel had other friends, though.

It was only now, being with other people, that she could see what affect her bullying had been on the brunette. Her shoulders weren't quite as straight, her eyes brighter; everything about her was lighter, freer, and none of it was due to Quinn. Self-loathing stabbed at her and she left the kitchen to sit on the couch, where Santana immediately flopped down next to her and put her arm on the back of the couch.

"What's with you, Thunder Thighs?" Santana asked, tilting her head so her mouth was near Quinn's ear.

"Nothing," She replied, then pushed Santana's head when it was pressed to her neck. "Get off."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Santana was getting closer. Quinn wriggled, trying to get away, then sighed, "It's nothing."

"Q," Her voice was serious.

"It really isn't anything," She insisted.

Then Santana's voice went soft and gentle, like she was coaxing a skittish animal, "Quinn." She nudged her with her nose, murmured, "Quinn."

Quinn pursed her lips, then said, "Fine. It's just – I feel terrible for bullying Rachel. I – I don't think I ever apologized and she's in this with me and, I feel stupid, it's been months, I should have apologized the first day, but she doesn't even have any friends, it's just me and –"

"You're doubting her feelings for you?"

She shook her head, bit her lip, struggled to make her feelings into words. "No. I know Rachel, she – she cares for me. She cares for me a lot, probably more than she should. It's the validity of it, her experience – I, whether she's had any more friends."

Quinn closed her eyes, exhaled, and then managed to say, "Do I make her happy or do I just make her less sad?"

Santana was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Have you seen yourself lately?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I see myself in the mirror every day."

"That's not what I meant, Preggers. I meant that she probably thinks the same thing, because you were really sad before this. Like, seriously sad, and when you weren't sad, you were angry."

She swallowed, "I wasn't angry." She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't sad, because she knew that she was sad, it was just a different kind of sad than now.

Santana scoffed, "You think you weren't angry. You were so angry and you didn't even know it."

Quinn thought of the time before she and Rachel had first started whatever it was that they were, and recalled her resignation, her determination that Rachel not be her downfall. She didn't think she'd been angry, though, but said nothing.

"Am I better now?" She asked, thinking of Rachel's soft hands, the slope of her mouth, the ever present want that resided in her eyes.

"Yeah," Santana said, "You're a lot better."

The moment was immediately broken by the sound of breaking glass. They jumped up, even as one Rachel's relatives yelled, "What happened?" but made no move towards the kitchen.

Rachel called, "We're okay, I just dropped something."

They quieted, but Santana and Quinn continued to see Rachel sweeping up glass. They looked like heavy dinner plates, and Kurt was with her, high spots of color on his pale cheeks, with her friends moving furniture out the way so that she could continue sweeping.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked her, cautious in walking in only her socks.

Rachel flashed her a quick smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Things just got a little heated."

"Heated," She repeated and looked down at the floor. There were more than one plate; heated seemed a small word for it

Kurt's face was milk white, except for the high, bright spots of his cheeks, "I'm sorry."

Rachel frowned, "Kurt, stop. We'll talk about it later."

He repeated, "I- I just, maybe Mercedes isn't sorry, but I am, I'm so sorry, and I just –"

"Kurt," Rachel said firmly. He shut his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut. She put the dustbin and broom down, walked to him, and captured his face between her hands. "Kurt," She repeated. His eyes opened and he stared at her. "We'll talk later."

Slowly, he nodded, and hugged her lightly. Rachel giggled even as Kurt let go. Quinn wondered if seeing only Rachel's relatives at her birthday party had impacted him as much as it had her. It brought reality to that situation. The door bell rang again, and someone answered it. Within a minute, probably less, Dave Karofsky was in her field of vision. He was carrying a box with him, wrapped in what was probably old wrapping paper; it was blue with sports paraphernalia on it, and was very neat. She could see the ragged corners, where the tape had pulled, and saw that he'd obviously been practicing.

Karofsky was wearing khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, stretched a little too wide at his shoulders, with boat shoes, and he held the gift out to her with a brusque, "Here."

She took it from him and beamed, "Thank you, David."

He grunted, and patted her back when she pulled him into a hug.

"Can I open it?" She asked, enthused.

Karofsky shrugged even as Quinn took it from her and said, sternly, "No."

Rachel pouted again, but Quinn had already turned around to put the present on the crowded table. She could hear a loud conversation going on in the living room and by craning her neck, she could see that most of Rachel's slightly older cousins were drinking and making fun of each other.

"Hey," Someone yelled, "I'm gone drop this subject right the fuck now! All I gotta say is short people are the real thugs! You gotta be a real thug to get shit off the top shelf with **nobody else around**!"

There was a loud shout of, "Yo!" From the gathered crowd of short people. Quinn rolled her eyes, but laughed. God, no wonder Rachel was the way she was. Even now, she could see Rachel in the fray, laughing and then suddenly squeaking at being picked up and carried to where the presents and cakes were, in the den.

There were two cakes, one a large sheet cake, and the second a small, round cake, which was vegan and gluten-free. The larger cake didn't have very many decorations on it besides the standard piping around the edges and was the type that anyone could pick up at the local supermarket, but the small cake was hand-made, evident by the sloppy but heartfelt writing of Rachel's name by some of her younger cousins. Rachel was enthused as all Hell, hopping up and down. Quinn smiled, and then looked around. Most of the family was in the room, some leaking out into the living room, and she could see the kids from school and Karofsky somewhat nearby. Shelby was also at the doorway, looking on the scene with soft eyes, and Quinn turned back to look at Rachel blow out her candles.

Rachel grinned at her, face slightly obscured from the smoke, and narrowed her eyes through the smoke. Her happy face faded a little, before she put her smile back on. Quinn turned around.

Shelby was gone.

She could see that the enthusiasm that Rachel had previously had for the party had dissipated neatly, like ether.

Quinn sighed, feeling her distaste for Shelby grow. Shelby didn't come back even with Christmas or when Rachel had her solo at their Lutheran church, and her family filled up at least the front half of the church. She met Rachel's Grammy and blushed pinkly when Rachel introduced her as her girlfriend and her co-parent. Grammy hugged her and treated her just like any of the other grandkids, same as their doddering Bubbe, and Quinn couldn't help but think that Rachel's family was so much more accepting than her own. She was happy for the quiet house when the holidays left, but it almost felt like she was trapped in a cocoon of harsh feelings when she and Rachel were outside of the house, with all the disapproving looks people gave them. Rachel was, as always, unconcerned for herself, but more than conciliatory on Quinn's behalf.

Quinn could tell that her tiny brunette was having trouble with Shelby leaving her again, even if she said nothing. She spent more time curled around Quinn's slightly protruding belly, pressing her face to the hard bump so that it was almost like they were fused. She'd already known, vaguely, that Rachel had trouble with the idea of motherhood and how she fit into the baby's life, but now it was cemented in Shelby's return and subsequent leaving. The fifteen years Rachel's fathers had dedicated into telling her she was not any different from anyone else, just as loveable and as great as any heterosexual couple. Selby had practically destroyed it in two days, with her story of love and want and caring, then leaving before Rachel could even say hello.

They'd gone to school for three weeks, and Rachel had been at work for two, when she came back from work smiling.

"What's up?" Jeremiah asked over dinner. Rachel had just stepped in and had only taken her skinny tie off. It was 'Formal Friday', which Quinn found an interesting concept because Rachel wearing her slender suits – she considered them more formal than her skirts and a better look – was absolutely delicious. "You seem in a good mood."

Rachel grinned, "I had the best costumer."

Gerard smirked and winked at Quinn, "Were they cute?"

Quinn had come to terms with the fact that although she was primarily attracted to Rachel and a male model named Angelo Page, which was more a fascination with his cheekbones, Rachel's interests and attractions were more varied and sometimes just plain bizarre. Not that she would say anything to Quinn about it, but she was observant and Rachel tended to look at people and there was sometimes a look of – not exactly interest, but fascination. And for some reason she enjoyed looking at Matt Smith, who she thought was just the weirdest looking individual ever. She was still a little insecure, but Rachel never looked at anyone else with that bright look to her eyes, so she was okay with it.

Rachel had a puzzled look on her face, "Yes, but I think that's because he looked a lot like Quinn. I was actually rather confused, because he wasn't exactly feminine."

Quinn's eyebrows quirked upwards, "Are you calling me a man?"

"Never," Rachel answered sincerely. "I mean, I would never misgender someone intentionally."

Sometimes, she forgot how frighteningly candid Rachel could be.

"But he was cute?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yes," She answered. "He brought his guitar, and we sang together on my break. He's very good."

Of course it would be music that made her so happy.

Gerard smiled at her, "That's good."

The next day, Rachel was a little distracted, constantly texting on her phone, but Quinn didn't really care because Rachel finished her schoolwork first, held her hand in the hall, and kissed her until she was dizzy at lunch. Santana saw her at some point and made a vee with her fingers, then mimed licking in between them. It took her a moment to understand what she was doing, then flushed and she walked away at a faster pace. It was closer to waddling at this point, but that wasn't the point.

Rachel was texting him again the next day and mentioned the boy at dinner again.

"He's very funny and clever," Rachel said to them. "You know, he's seen all of Supernatural so far?"

Gerard snorted, "You made friends with a fan boy. Hope he's not a brony."

"He's not," Rachel insisted. Then she grimaced, "He enjoys Castiel, however."

Jeremiah said blandly, "Oh, the horror."

"Yeah, but I suppose we can't all be perfect," Rachel sighed.

Gerard turned to Jeremiah, "You think we raised her with too much confidence?"

"I told you that when she was four and insisted that purple and green matched. She looked like Barney for six months."

Rachel sniffed, "I'm so glad I have a large amount of self-confidence. Your comments would make a lesser person shrink."

"Your ego is very healthy," Quinn said sarcastically. Rachel knew her head was the same size as the house, there was no use pretending with her for more than posterity.

Rachel sulked – which was obnoxiously attractive at the worst of times; slumped shoulders, furrowed brow, lower lip protruding, her always careful shoulders hunching in the slender suit jacket, the tapping of her dress shoes and the brush of her leg against Quinn's - at her tone and picked at her dinner until she forgot she was sulking and ate her tofu quesadilla ravenously.

The arrival of her fellow geeky friend who was apparently perfect – his only faults were his love of Castiel and Spider-Man, who Rachel found a supremely boring superhero and an "insectoid copy of the beloved Captain America archetype of awkward but persistent teenager ends up adored super human beset by tragedy"– did not completely wipe Shelby from her mind. Rachel called her phone daily, and if Quinn ever looked at her recent caller list, it showed fifteen or twenty second calls to her, just long enough to hear her voice mail and hang up. The least amount Quinn saw was twice and the most twenty-one.

It wasn't exactly desperation, because Quinn knew for a fact that Rachel would have babbled until the voicemail ran out of space if it had been, but it did make Quinn sad to see Rachel so lost. Not knowing Shelby was a lot easier on everybody. Even her fathers didn't acknowledge the fact that Shelby had talked to them and left, but touched Rachel more, showed her that they cared and loved her.

They went to the official OB/GYN as a family the day after Jeremiah's birthday, January 22nd, which was nowhere as big as Rachel's birthday party or disappointing for anyone. Rather, it was just them, some cake, and presents. Their OB/GYN was a somewhat intimidating man who was nevertheless careful and explanatory.

He'd explained how to tell if the fetus was a boy or girl or of indeterminate sex already – all fetuses had what could be either a penis or a clitoris, and the clitoris was pointed downwards while the penis was at a 45 degree angle, and an indeterminate sexual organ fell in between – but the baby's hand was between their legs.

"What's it doing?" Rachel asked curiously, peering closely.

"Masturbating, in all likelihood," Dr. Yemen said cheerfully. "Fetuses at this age do it because they do feel pleasure, babies and toddlers do as well. It's a very healthy part of development."

Quinn flushed because she had only done it a handful of times but Rachel didn't seem embarrassed at all. That probably explained the baby oil that was constantly in Rachel's top drawer. Now she felt stupid that she hadn't figured it out on her own.

The two were alone in Rachel's room, door cracked slightly, cuddling when Quinn felt the urge to ask and know for sure.

"Do you masturbate?" She asked, voice cracking on the word.

Rachel licked her lips, "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Quinn buried her face into Rachel's neck. "Curious," She murmured against her soft, sweet smelling skin. "I never thought of you doing –" Her blush crept up her neck, "that."

Rachel asked, "Don't you?"

Quinn's ears hurt from being so hot, "Um."

Her voice was shocked, "You don't?!"

All her blood was in her upper body. Had to be. "No," She murmured. "When I get – like that, I just come to you."

Rachel grinned and nuzzled Quinn's hair, "I like that."

Quinn smiled.

"But you should probably still learn to masturbate."

Her grin dropped in mortification.

Rachel hurriedly explained, "It's just – well, you're pregnant. I'm not around all the time, as much as I'd like to be, so you should learn and it'll help you learn what you do and don't like."

Quinn could understand what she meant but couldn't help but think of it as embarrassing. She'd always associated sexual pleasure with sex, which she knew was a little backwards, but she couldn't imagine touching herself just to touch herself.

"Maybe later."

Rachel waggled her eyebrows, "I could teach you, make it a little less scary."

Gerard appeared in the doorway, Toto behind him, scowling, "You'd better be teaching her how to take that ass to sleep. I told y'all half an hour ago, I'm not gone say it again. Quinn, go to your room."

Quinn left, even as Rachel made a little protesting noise, and kissed her nose, then received a kiss from Gerard to soften his earlier comment.

Quinn's dream that night was of having sex with Rachel, but whatever arousal she had was immediately quenched by the baby kicking against her bladder at four fifteen in the morning.

Damn whatever those magazine and Internet articles said, there was nothing sexy about being pregnant.


	15. Chapter 14

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Notes: I've changed Catalyst's time line, once I saw that the timing had been too extended. Rather than twenty chapters, it will be sixteen. Including this one and the last that I have already written, there is one more chapter to be written. I made another bet with a friend so it should be finished by January because I just don't have forty dollars to fuck around with.

Chapter 14 –

The Internet proved much more useful when it came to masturbation than it did when Quinn had looked up Rachel's medical condition. Videos, advice columns, blogs – the works popped up when it came time for that. It was a little embarrassing, and knowing Rachel did it was a little help, but Rachel was also pretty shameless overall. She tried it the same night, laptop at an angle from the protrusion of her stomach, but this time it was helpful. She wasn't exactly aroused and the videos made her cringe because some of those positions were so weird and so uncomfortable looking, she stuck to reading. Masturbation went a little better this time around, but she still felt awkward touching herself, especially with her swollen belly in the way and the baby kicking more frequently. She gave up altogether when she was close to a tingling feeling and what felt like a foot jabbed against her kidneys.

Gerard printed out the baby's ultrasound pictures and started a baby album. He'd decorated it himself with neutral tones and items; ducks, rattles, bottles, diapers, clothespins in their natural shades, nothing pastel, nothing overtly feminine or masculine. The book itself was black with white print, "Baby's First Album." He was certainly warming up to his role as Grandpa. There were pictures of her and Rachel from the birthday party, Rachel as a kid and toddler – he'd even dropped by when Russell was at work to see if Judy had a few pictures she was willing to part with temporarily, gaining some of Quinn as a chunky blonde baby, then an apple-cheeked toddler.

"You were cute," Rachel commented at the sight.

Quinn rolled her eyes, and received a small kiss to her cheek.

They laid together a lot of nights, just barely touching with her dads around, but it was enough, the tiny sensation of sparks everywhere. She wondered if she was becoming greedy, then decided that she'd always been greedy and was only now coming to accept that. And if she was greedy, the baby was worse.

Her stomach was constantly fluttering with what she was sure were somersaults, cartwheels, and judo tricks. Like their Mama, the baby seemed to soak up any and all attention as a good thing. Rachel seemed to think it was the most majestic thing in the world and Quinn felt like snapping that why didn't she go ahead and carry a child, but stopped herself. Rachel was just being nostalgic, she knew, especially since she'd found out that Rachel didn't have a uterus. She hadn't meant to, exactly, but they'd been in bed talking as they tended to and, somehow, they'd talked about names again. They still didn't have a set list but had determined that they'd prefer more masculine or feminine names instead of their current mix of androgynous names. It was probably from all the name-calling they'd gotten with their own names.

"Did you like anything from 'East of Eden' as a name?" Rachel had asked her, late one night, when they were cuddling in bed. "Or 'Grapes of Wrath' or anything else we've read?" Quinn's nose wrinkled as she thought. Most of the names were traditional, but more Christian-popular than plain popular. They'd read multiple books through her first two trimesters, and she'd entered her last trimester just a couple of weeks ago. She was in no way disenchanted with religion, was still an avid follower of her faith, but found that they were a little too currently in-fashion for her. They'd moved onto a new book, which had a vastly different format, and much more about Judaism than Protestant faith.

"Not 'East of Eden,'" Quinn told her. "But I like Asher a lot."

Rachel's thumb stroked the firm edge of her jawline, then her plush lip. Her finger stayed almost in place as Quinn continued, "If we have another baby, we might." And then she smiled, "But you have to carry it."

Her other's eyes dimmed slowly, and her thumb slipped down, to just under her mouth, the space before her chin started.

"I'm not capable of carrying a child," Rachel murmured. "My uterus never developed adequately and my pelvis is too small."

Quinn blinked, but nuzzled her face into Rachel's warm hand. "Sorry," She said.

Rachel constructed a smile that lacked her general sweetness, but none of her softness, "It's okay. You didn't know."

"I didn't ask." She was running her hands through Rachel's long hair, feeling the delicate texture, and she suddenly realized she knew very little about Rachel. She knew the same things that other people knew, for the most part, and so did Rachel. They had learned nothing new of each other in the months before this except for the fragility of humanity; that hunger consumed all.

Rachel melted under her hands, turned into putty, curled around her and fell asleep with her head on her chest. Feeling the flickering of long eyelashes and tender breath, she felt it come over her in a tidal wave, the thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind.

"I have to leave you," She whispered. For a moment, Rachel tensed, forehead creased, hands curled on her sides, as if she'd heard, and then she let it go, tucked into herself.

She made sure Rachel was asleep, tucked her in further, and padded out the room. She went to her room and laid on the bed, on top of the covers, and pressed her hands to her full stomach. It was too late at night for this, she just needed to sleep. This wouldn't be her only thought in the morning.

Of course, it was Quinn's only thought in the morning, as she made her bed, as she brushed her teeth, as she combed her hair. It was her only thought when it came to breakfast, the long drive to school.

I have to leave her.

She didn't tell anyone about it, feeling self-conscious of the thought.

It was February when she finally put it into action, and waited until the house was empty to call.

"Hello?" Came the familiar voice, the voice of her childhood. Memories and scents of scrapped knees and lax kisses and prayers and warm hands assailed her.

"Mom?" The word choked her, caught itself in her larynx, hung onto her ribs.

For a moment, there was no sound. Quinn was sure that she'd hung up when there were loud, heart wrenching sobs.

"Oh, mom," She sighed, then said, tears in her own eyes, "Mommy, stop, it's okay."

It took a long time for the sobs to stop and Quinn didn't take the phone away for a single moment, reveling in the sounds. "Quinn," Her mother finally cooed. "Baby."

She smiled, "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, baby."

She sat on her bed, "How're you?"

Judy was honest, "I miss you. I miss you very much, and I want to see what you look like now."

"I'm the same," Quinn argued, knowing she was lying.

Her mother's voice was soft, "No, you're not."

"I'm not," She affirmed. Then, "I'm six months. I'm due late April."

Her mother made a sound, turned into static by the phones.

"How are you feeling? Backaches, swollen feet, stretch marks?"

The blonde palmed her stomach, feeling the distended flesh. "Stretch marks, yes, backaches less so. Rachel takes good care of me."

"She seemed like a good girl," Judy commented. "We met briefly, and her father came to get those pictures." She hesitated, "He explained everything, her condition."

Quinn closed her eyes. That was going to make it hard, suddenly, that her mother liked Rachel.

"I have a confession to make," She said, in the lull of their conversation.

Her mother's voice was less than optimistic, "Oh?"

She swallowed, "After the baby's born, I want to live with the Colonel and Gram-Gram."

Judy's breath shuddered out, like something cold had slipped down her back.

"Are you sure?"

Quinn nodded, "She's going places, Mom. God, you should hear her sing, it's beautiful. She wants to be on Broadway and she has the talent but –"

"But a baby changes everything," Her mother finished. "That's true, sweetheart, but do you think leaving the state is best?"

She laughed, but it was hollow. "You've never met her. If I lived in Ohio, she'd come for me and the baby. I'd – she's so young, Mom. We're both really young. I don't want to do this, but I have to."

Judy countered, "The baby won't have a father."

"They won't be the first child, Mom," She argued.

"They'll be the first Fabray."

Her chest felt tight, "Mom. Please."

Another sigh. "I'll call your Gram-Gram tonight. She'll be thrilled, I'm sure. The Colonel will take a little longer, but I think that you should be fine."

Quinn replied, "They love me."

"We love you," Her mother said, emphatic and serious. Quinn pretended she hadn't heard the 'we' and said, "I love you, too."

They talked for a while after that. Her mother didn't speak about her father at all, which was she was grateful for, and they only hung up when Judy had to start making dinner.

She felt better, having spoken to her mother, having concrete plans for once in her life. It was still dark outside, but constantly getting lighter, becoming spring slowly but surely. She sat on her bed and started to braid her hair, the tactile sensation giving her something to cling to. She'd made tiny little plaits in her hair, like a pirate, when Rachel returned with Daddy and dramatically flung herself on the bed next to Quinn, immediately snuggling into her side.

Quinn kissed her forehead and Rachel moved her head so that they shared a small, soft kiss. She looked down at Rachel with sad eyes; she would miss these moments.

They were small and, in a way, unbearably lonely, but undeniably there.

Rachel flopped behind her and asked, faux casually, from behind her thick, pretty eyelashes, "What would you like to do for Valentine's Day tomorrow?"

Quinn frowned. She hadn't actually thought about it. There'd never been any significant attachment to Valentine's Day with her family, besides a customary dessert that was only for her parents, and the candy she'd always gotten in school. But Valentine's Day was on a Sunday that year, and there didn't seem to be much going on in the Berry household, so she said what she thought was a very safe answer, "I'd like to be with you."

Her safe answer just so happened to be true.

Rachel grinned at her, her face completely and utterly blinding in its innocent joy.

"Good," Said the brunette. And then, conspiratorially with a little smile, "Papa and Daddy are going out."

Quinn smiled back at her and puckered her mouth dramatically. Rachel's nose wrinkled, but kissed her lightly again. They traded little kisses back and forth, sweet presses of their lips, until they laid down together, giggling.

Jeremiah peeked in, wearing a pewter gray suit and a salmon tie, red and sandy hair brushed neatly for once. His eyes crinkled when he saw them and said, "Babes, we're leaving for dinner. There's money on the counter and there should be food in the fridge."

Rachel asked, in her same lounging position, "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"

He rolled his eyes, but in the same manner that Rachel did, they only went halfway around, then dropped. She wasn't even sure if Rachel's eyes could roll completely.

"We were, but your Papa messed up the days, so we're just going tonight and then try something else tomorrow."

They nodded, and then crawled from the bed to kiss his cheeks. He ruffled their hair and said, "Be good."

Gerard popped in for a kiss and the two men left.

They didn't do much for that day. They talked more about names and had Thai for dinner, but when Quinn woke up, it was to some small cramping. Her pain tolerance had never been high and she groaned in pain.

Rachel opened her eyes and croaked, in her incredibly sexy, growling morning voice, "What's wrong?"

She rubbed just above her pelvis, "I think I'm having those Braxton Hicks contractions the doctor warned me about."

Rachel frowned, "Would you like a hot water bottle?"

She pouted, fluttering her eyelashes, "Please?"

"Gotcha," Rachel kissed her forehead, crawled out of bed, and Toto followed her. A minute or so later, when they were fading, Rachel was back and tucked the water bottle underneath her waistband. She rubbed circles on her belly and then said, cheerfully, "Your breasts are bigger."

Quinn sat up to hit her but another contraction hit and she laid back, glaring balefully at her companion, who was already at the door with an unrepentant grin.

"You suck," She groused.

Rachel smiled sweetly as she approached and kissed her cheek, "I'm gonna make you breakfast, just stay in bed for me."

That wouldn't be a problem.

The Braxton Hicks continued, a little stronger, but Quinn stayed in bed. The doctors had assured them that with Quinn's earlier physical healthiness and good diet – once they were on the Cheerios, they were on a specific diet of whole wheat and brown rice, grassfed meats, and organic vegetation that Coach Sylvester somehow had sponsors pay for that were sent directly to their homes – that she was actually in prime condition and her age was very good for childbirth, not too young for her pelvis to be underdeveloped but not so old that difficulties would arise. She'd bounce right back into her activities, probably with more energy with the added fat. Braxton Hicks were expected and she should, probably, have had them earlier than now.

With her eyes closed, she threaded her hands and put them behind her head.

Sounds seemed clearer, like that. She could feel her heartbeat, nearly hearing the lub-lub sound. She could hear Rachel singing and her feet on the stairs, then the door opening.

And, weirdest of all, she heard a tiny little "pop" before there was warmth on her thighs. It wasn't like pee, but more that odd, warm sensation of an unexpected period starting.

She opened her eyes just as Rachel dropped the dishes.

She sat up, then clutched her side at another Braxton Hicks contraction.

Except, she didn't think these were Braxton Hicks anymore.

"Rachel," Quinn said lowly. "Call 911."

Quinn changed into a dress as Rachel called and then began to babble, "Hello, yes, my girlfriend's started bleeding from her vaginal area and she's thirty-two weeks pregnant. She complained about Braxton Hicks contractions earlier and – no, this isn't normal, it's not spotting, please send an ambulance."

"Fire rescue," Quinn grunted, as she sat back down to take a guess as to where her feet were. Rachel was immediately there, putting on first one ballet flat, then the other.

"An ambulance," Rachel insisted, and told the person on the other line her address before hanging up.

"Fire rescue costs less," Quinn argued. Russell had always drilled it into her and Frannie's heads that if they didn't have the money on them, in cash, for an ambulance, that fire rescue was just as good and could foot the bill if a real ambulance was needed. She wasn't sure that was how it worked, but it was reflex to disagree.

Rachel stared at her, bewildered, as she changed into white jeans and grabbed a gray t-shirt, "You're having a baby, I think costs can go out the window at this point in time."

Quinn couldn't dispute that, and Rachel grabbed the baby bag that she'd insisted on making back in November and called her parents.

"Papa, Daddy, Quinn's having the baby," She said, with no preamble. She held it away from her ear automatically and waited a moment before continuing, "I've called 911, we're going to the front door for the ambulance now."

Quinn called her mother as Rachel left the room to get something, still on the phone.

"Mom, I'm having the baby," She said.

Her mother squeaked, "Already?" Then, "I'll get down to Lima General immediately, it's okay, baby, you were a quick labor."

She felt more contractions as her mother hung up and Rachel entered again, a stack of papers under her arm. She helped Quinn down the stairs and they waited in the living room for the ambulance to show up.

After three minutes of watching Rachel pace, she said, "Would you make me some oatmeal?"

Rachel nearly threw herself into the kitchen and made Quinn's favorite blueberry and hazelnut oatmeal, with lots of peanut butter in it, and Quinn ate as they waited.

"You think she took us seriously?" Rachel asked, handing her a glass of orange juice.

Quinn pointed out, twirling her spoon, "It's Valentine's Day. Who knows how many people have stabbed their partners at this point in the day."

Rachel's nose wrinkled, "You're so morbid. Have you always been this morbid?"

She said drolly, "Yes. You were too besotted to notice."

Rachel blew her a raspberry.

The blonde finished her drink when they saw the ambulance pull up and two people leave. Rachel opened the door and helped support Quinn outside. Her contractions were stronger and slightly faster. Once they got her settled onto the stretcher, one checked her dilation as the other helped Rachel flip through forms to fill out the insurance claim early.

"What the fuck?" Said the one flipping through forms.

She turned to her partner, "What do we do about temporary custody cases?"

"When's the temp up?"

She checked, "It looks indefinite, there's no ending date."

The second paramedic said, "Treat it like a regular custody case. We treat her and they sort shit out in the hospital."

He looked down at her vagina again, poking something inside much to her morbid embarrassment, and he called over his shoulder, "Tell Urie to step on it, she's like, five centimeters and I ain't good with babies."

Urie must have heard as the ambulance did indeed speed up and the ride became notably bumpier. Within two minutes, they were at Lima General Hospital. There was a wheelchair and a crowd of nurses waiting.

Another contraction hit her and she groaned, as they carried her to the chair, "I hate you, Spencer Broadhurst."

Rachel fairly ran to keep up with the nurse who had Quinn's chair, until her mother ran up to them, "Sweetheart, how are you?"

"Very much in labor," She whined. Another contraction hit her, this one longer and stronger. It felt like tight pressure against her cervix, like she was a balloon ready to pop, and her mother kissed her forehead. Rachel presented the hastily done forms to one of the nurses, who went through it with a fine tooth comb, and then asked, "Who's her permanent custody awarded to?"

Judy walked over, presented the nurse with her insurance forms, and Quinn was led to a delivery room. A gynecologist was already waiting, a sweet-looking, older woman, with soft brown and thick, black hair, and she spoke to Quinn, rather than her vagina.

She explained that she was going through her labor rather quickly but that was nothing to be worried about. Her charts were all there, and she looked healthy enough for this to be a quick, easy labor.

"You're also," She added, smiling, "Far enough along for your baby to be perfectly healthy. The last four weeks are typically just a formality, and eight weeks is typically a little worrisome, but you check out great, there aren't any complications with your baby when we did the amniotic fluid test during your last checkup, you've gained a pleasant amount of weight, and there's a 95% chance of a perfectly healthy child with other mothers, ones not so in shape, and I'd happily bump you up between 97 and 99."

Quinn smiled at her, finally relieved, and she was changed into a hospital gown quickly by the same doctor.

"I'm Doctor Bahjet," She finally introduced herself. "I know it's a little late, Ms. Fabray, but I wanted to get you settled first. Your care comes beforehand. If it's at all uncomfortable or painful, speak to me and I'll do everything I can. You're not far enough along that you can't get an epidural, some pain killers, for the rest of this."

Quinn shook her head, "My girlfriend and I decided to do this the natural way." She was always surprised at the sheer amount of joy that could be had from those types of words. Girlfriend. Other. Eventually, perhaps, possibly (definitely, if Rachel ever forgave her) wife.

"There's a lot of things to be said about natural," Dr. Bahjet said, the voice of professionalism and experience,"But one is that it is not altogether the most comfortable of rides."

She pointed out, "And besides, your girlfriend is not the one in labor right now."

Quinn really thought about it but shook her head. Dr. Bahjet helped her into the stirrups and checked her dilation.

"Someone's eager," She said, when her head popped back up, "You're at about six and a half centimeters. Maybe another hour and you'll be ready to start pushing."

Quinn leaned back and got comfortable on the thin pillows as Rachel walked in, wearing mint green scrubs.

"Hi, baby," She said, and kissed her cheek, then her lips. Quinn returned the kiss, then hissed against her teeth as another contraction hit. Rachel nuzzled her mouth against her cheek, then to behind her jaw and with little effort, slipped her shoes off and crawled into the bed, behind her. She settled Quinn against her chest, her hands on top of her bulging belly, knees locked on both sides of Quinn's waist, and the last of Quinn's tension left her completely.

Her mother came in, looking much more uncomfortable in her scrubs, and took the lone chair that Rachel had disregarded.

They seemed to have talked about something, as they were both solely focused on Quinn, not asking why the other was there, just accepting it. It was a good feeling, to Quinn, that they could sit in the same room with no arguing or slurs thrown. It would have been a different story with Russell.

Within thirty minutes, with Rachel whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle and her mother's very presence, Quinn became fully dilated and Dr. Bahjet said, in her tender voice, for her to push with the contractions.

The pressure was obscenely intense, strong enough that she felt like she'd hurt something, a huge strain that she took out on Rachel's delicate hands, but with only four pushes, the baby was out and screaming.

"It's a boy!" Dr. Bahjet said over the noise. Rachel climbed out briefly to snip the umbilical cord with soft eyes. A nurse wrapped him up, and gave him to Rachel, who cradled him to her chest, eyes misty as she stared down at him, and then tears falling as she kissed his forehead and handed him to Quinn.

He was red, was what she first noticed. He was wrinkly and red and very pruned, with a big, screaming mouth and a nest of fine, pale golden curls. His hands were tiny little fists, curled tight, and close to his chest, and his legs kicked a little.

They took him away, briefly, to weigh him and check him out.

"Eight pounds, two ounces," said Dr. Bahjet. "And a perfectly healthy child."

He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, she realized, when they gave him back, and she cradled him to her before one of the nurses handed her a bottle full of warm formula.

The same nurse adjusted her hold, so that his head was in the crook of her arm, and she carefully fit the nipple to his mouth. He latched on and sucked with a strength she didn't know he could possess.

"What's his name?" Dr. Bahjet asked her.

"Asher," She responded. "Asher Josiah."

Rachel gave her a smile that melted her insides completely.

Josiah had been her first choice of names.


	16. Chapter 15

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Notes: This is the last, official chapter of Catalyst. Yes, the story has always been planned to end this way. Yes, this is a little unexpected for some of you, but I hope we all enjoyed it before the last hurrah, which will be posted tomorrow, right after I sleep.

Chapter 15 –

Being a mother had not, really and truly, hit Quinn until after AJ was born. They went between calling him AJ and Asher, sometimes within the same sentence. She had been pregnant teenager, example of debauchery and loose morals. Now, she was a mother. She was somebody's mother and he depended on her very much.

It was a shame he was a little ugly. Oh, he was still the most beautiful child she had ever seen, but as a parent, that was her job. When she was impartial, she could admit he wasn't the handsomest boy on the block.

They were both worried about the dried skin between the webs of his hands and feet and his huge head – she maintained it was entirely Rachel's fault – and how he was wrinkled and red and generally, looked like a little old bald monkey. All of their parents assured them it was common and expected, and that neither of them were exactly pinnacles of beauty at birth. That was a bold-faced lie. Pictures of them at birth showed sweet-faced, pretty babies. Rachel's long eyelashes had been present already, but her dark eyes were deep blue, like the ocean, and she was gorgeous. Quinn looked like a Gerber baby, and her hazel eyes were green instead, similar to her mother's eyes.

Within two weeks, Asher's swollen, red body had faded to a much tamer olive complexion and his eyes were large and a soft green, constantly rolling around in curiosity. His eyes were supposed to change but Quinn hoped they wouldn't because he was just so pretty. Quinn and Rachel would periodically sit on a blanket with him and just stare. Their parents all laughed at them, but they didn't care.

Quinn had permission from the school to finish her work at home, until she was in tip-top shape, but after two days back with intense bullying to both her and Rachel, her assignments were now online. All work had to be turned in by the end of the class period, but it was much easier online, without distractions from classmates and sidetracked teachers.

She and Rachel both maintained A's, putting them neck-in-neck for number one of the class but were more distracted by their tiny son. He was developing features and had what was, unmistakably, Rachel's nose. His mouth was still small, but Rachel and Gerard assured her that it was very close in shape to her own. Judy stopped by at least once a day to see the baby, and when he was finally able to be outside, they brought him to Glee practice.

"Jesus, Berry, could your genes have been any stronger?" Santana asked as he laid on a blanket on the floor. She was crouched near him as his unfocused eyes stared ahead, but when she spoke, his eyes shifted to her mouth. At around two months, this was expected, and he cooed at her voice.

"Wow," Said Brittany, awe in her voice. "Duckie's talking to you, San."

Brittany was the only one to call AJ 'Duckie' and Quinn felt immense relief that Brittany didn't have any hard feelings towards not saying who the other parent was or that she was pregnant.

The other members of Glee played with him as he looked at them and giggled. He was a friendly baby, and they'd made sure to socialize him well. Research showed that babies identified male at birth didn't get as much social interaction as babies assigned girls at birth and Quinn was especially worried because she wasn't as expressive as Rachel. She couldn't just stick her face in his crib and make funny faces, but he always reached for her when it was time for peekaboo. Then, of course, they revealed themselves as regular teenagers when he pooped and they handed him back to Quinn before scattering. Rachel kept him occupied as she changed him by waving his hands and tickling his soft little belly. They threw the diaper out and Quinn washed her hands as Rachel and Asher cuddled.

"I love his smell," Rachel said to her when she returned, and Quinn laid on the blanket so that Rachel could carefully deposit him on her chest. She knew exactly what Rachel was talking about. He always had a tender scent to him, the combination of baby oil, powder, and formula, she was sure, and there was something milder, more relaxing to him naturally, after he'd had a bath, normally, and was being a cuddly dear. She nuzzled her face against his pale curls. He clucked, then whined, and Quinn opened her shirt and adjusted him, sitting up, so he could eat.

Asher had taken to cooing when people talked around him and he frequently babbled to himself when alone. They could hear him on the baby monitor at night, if they weren't asleep in the bed next to his crib in what was Quinn's room. Neither of them was really big on helping him self-soothe, especially in the beginning when he was cranky and tended to cry a lot. Rachel especially was distraught, sometimes leaving the house because she felt so bad for not picking him up and cuddling with him, or curling up with Quinn, her hands over her ears. It was worth it when he started sleeping through the night, however, and they could finally get some alone time.

Quinn had started taking the birth control shots immediately after giving birth, so after three months of abstinence, they were having semi-regular sex. They did not need the fervor of alcohol or the confused feelings she'd dragged with her because now she was herself again, not Asher's incubator – she felt so light without him inside, and so lost, light and lost – and the decision was made, even if Rachel didn't know. She could enjoy Rachel without guilt, without expectations, and it was the most freeing thing in the world.

She was happy to make Rachel laugh and fumble with her words until she blinked those darling eyes and flashed that wonderful dimpled smile. Quinn had come to realize it was Rachel's 'gosh, aren't I cute?' face when she wanted to be forgiven of some imagined transgression.

But this was not, ultimately, for her. It was for Rachel, for Rachel to go on Broadway and become a voice actress and produce Grammies and, when the time was right, they would contact her. She never intended for Asher to not know Rachel, exactly, but it would be easier for all involved. AJ wouldn't be the first child to not know their father.

Quinn leaned against the door frame, watching Rachel change Asher as she made funny faces to keep him distracted. He wasn't very into diapers and pulled at them normally, sometimes unsnapping them completely and attempting to roll over and out of them. When he was with Rachel, she sometimes put him on his belly so he'd push off and they often laughed because he looked like he was doing little pushups.

When Asher was three months old, it was mother's day and Judy came over. Gerard and Jeremiah watched Asher, and the three women went to lunch and then for pedicures. Judy wasn't exactly nice to Rachel, but she seemed to understand her and when she found out how Shelby wasn't even involved in her life, she seemed to take on the reluctant role of mother. It was easier, she was sure, because Rachel was sweet and polite.

She brought them to the movies, as planned, kissed them goodbye, and they went on their first official date. They held hands in the theater, Rachel's moist palm against hers, and they pecked at the small popcorn. It wasn't a dumb movie, but it was long and a little boring for both of them. Lima didn't get movies the way other towns did, meaning, immediately after release, but whatever was in circulation did eventually find its way to them. Sometimes, they even made it there early, such as with _Avatar._

The woman at the ticketbooth had said it was like Pocahontas in space and it was, but there was a lot of it that was just plain boring. Rachel was generally a very good movie watcher, quiet and attentive, properly wowed at the appropriate parts, but Quinn would catch her nose wrinkling and her eyes rolling. The graphics were phenomenal, even in 2-D because 3-D gave them both headaches, but the storyline bored them.

Quinn was also distracted by her sore breasts. She was breastfeeding Asher because all the recalls on baby formula during her pregnancy had freaked her out a little and breastfeeding helped new mothers lose weight. Quinn was also working out because she wasn't comfortable being large, even if Rachel assured her that she would be absolutely perfect no matter what size she was. She was only about twenty pounds heavier, now, than before Asher was born and almost all of it was in her breasts and hips, making her full figured. Of course Rachel wouldn't have any complaints when Quinn looked like that.

Still, she'd go jogging with her and AJ when Quinn went jogging and she spotted her when she tried weight training – she genuinely liked it, it was a lot of fun and made her feel very powerful – and of course, she lost some of what little fat she had and her slender biceps were larger, so that when Puck came to visit, she'd say, "Look at my guns!" And show off her arms.

It was about the middle of the obscenely long movie when Quinn reached over and tapped Rachel's arms to whisper, "We brought the breast pump?"

Rachel dug through the book bag she carried with things she thought that they would need – including some duct tape, a needle and thread, Belgium milk chocolate, and a book – and shook her head, "I think we left it in the dishwasher."

The pressure was building and she wanted to rub them but she was afraid that it'd cause leaking.

Seeing she was uncomfortable and, after giving a quick look around to see that there was no one near them, Rachel whispered, "Don't move."

The brunette moved so that she was sitting on Quinn's lap and pushed her shirt and bra up. That was already a help, and she assumed Rachel was just going to block anyone's view of her braless figure, but then she felt warm lips attach themselves to her right breast.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, dumbfounded.

Rachel was giving gentle sucks, tentative, in a way, but Quinn felt her milk let down and the pressure soon eased up and then disappeared. Rachel adjusted herself so that her legs swung the other way and started sucking on her left nipple. She was a little more assured this time and the liquid came down almost immediately.

When she finished, Rachel put her bra and shirt back on correctly, sat in her seat with a little peculiar face, and then belched delicately.

It was altogether one of the most interesting things Quinn had ever experienced. There had been absolutely nothing sexual in Rachel's drinking, Quinn wasn't even aroused a hint, and Rachel looked like she was mainly trying to figure out what her milk tasted like.

That, above all that Quinn could think of, was caring.

Rachel would make somebody (hopefully her) very happy someday.

They both fell asleep as the movie continued and didn't realize it until they heard someone clapping at the end of the movie, and he hooped from the very top seats. Rachel rubbed her eyes, yawning, and turned around to give them a hateful look when her entire face lit up.

"Hello, Sam!" She scrambled up, swinging their bookbag of shared supplies onto her back.

He grinned at her, brushing blonde hair out of his eyes "Hey, Rachel!"

Rachel helped Quinn stand and the three walked down the theater steps. Sam was the boy from the café that she'd made friends with, the boy with the good taste in music, and he did look quite a bit like her. The two had an easy, friendly banter, and tried to include her but she wasn't a comic book fan or that into country music. Rachel wasn't even into country music, but her extensive knowledge of music came in handy. Sam's talk was cut short when a little blonde girl barreled towards him and he swung her up into a casual, one-armed hold.

He joined his family, waved goodbye, and the girlfriends walked to the Applebee's near the theatre.

Rachel splurged a little by getting the chicken fajitas sans chicken and Quinn ordered a steak dinner. They didn't get a lot of looks, which she was happy for, because she wasn't sure if she could actually handle that. People had been pretty nice to them so far, or at least ignoring them. Rachel cared less than she did, at least in capacity of herself, but worried about Quinn and how it affected her automatically.

About midway through their meal, Rachel left for the restroom. A woman at the table adjacent to their own said, in a perfectly calm and level voice, "You two are disgusting." She and who Quinn assumed was her husband got up from their table. There were only water glasses near their seats. Rachel returned and Quinn pretended that there leaving didn't bother her. She didn't tell her about the incident. It would not be the first time someone had dismissed them and they both now understood why Rachel's fathers left for their dates. Why they didn't leave Lima for good was another question.

Considering that Lima was tiny, they walked to Jeremiah's store. Quinn had only been inside a handful of times and found herself entranced with his murals and books each time. Some of it was new, but quite a bit more were used. His store was very popular with the students at the local university. They considered him funny and very cool.

Jeremiah was sitting up front with Asher, pulling and pushing his little chubby legs.

He saw them and smiled at his grandson. "Look, AJ," He said, turning him to see them. "Your mommies are back!"

Asher cooed and reached for them. Quinn picked him up first, kissing his pink cheeks and Rachel was given a wet kiss loaded with drool. She giggled at the action, the then took him from Quinn and ran her fingers through his curls. His hair had the same curls on Rachel's natural hair. When Rachel pulled her hand away, some of his hair came away as well.

"Papa," She called, worried. "Papa, look, his hair."

Jeremiah took a look and rolled his eyes. "His face," He said. "He's about the right age. His hair will fall out and his adult hair texture and color will grow in."

Jeremiah was correct. Before the month was out, Asher's thin white-blond hair, reminiscent of Quinn, fell out, replaced quickly by thick, black ringlets. His eyes had also darkened. They seemed even greener then before and, when her mother held him, she could see that resemblance. Just her mother probably would not have been enough, but Shelby also had green eyes. Luckily, they were too dark to remind anyone of her. She was especially happy for Rachel's sake.

They took Asher to regionals and, although they lost, and she knew Rachel would be upset, there was next year for New Directions, announced at the end of the spring semester. Asher had a little suit that he looked adorable in and posed with pictures with the entire group, and especially with his mommies.

It was June when she was pulled aside by Judy and she said, "Your grandparents have agreed to take you. They're coming next week."

Her plan was coming to fruition and she was suddenly nervous. She was really leaving Lima; her life; her Rachel. It would just be her and AJ, her darling son, in this new world. Russell had not acknowledged her but surely his parents superseded his own disappointment.

Gerard and Jeremiah left on their date the night before she left. Since finding out it was only temporary custody, granted with her parents permission as long as they felt was appropriate, her permanent custody would be given to her grandparents until she came of age. Asher was also, technically, under their care until she was eighteen.

Rachel was watching her pack. She'd told her that she was going to stay the weekend at her parents house but Quinn always packed heavily so she didn't pay that any attention. She had been babbling about movies and books but now was sitting on the bed, occasionally tossing clothes in as Quinn gestured and made general phrasing towards what, exactly, she wanted.

When she finished, she put the bag near the door and checked on Asher. He was asleep and his bag was packed as well. It was, ostensibly, so that he could finally meet her father.

Quinn retreated to the room she shared with Rachel and climbed into bed. Rachel was warm and smelled good, like softness and soap.

She snuggled against her back, then, sneakily stuck one hand over her waist. She grasped Rachel firmly, her penis curved to fit perfectly in Quinn's palm, but straightened and thickened as she touched her.

"Quinn," Rachel sighed in contentment, and turned. Quinn kissed her hungrily. She would never know when the next time she saw Rachel was, and now, her desire consumed her. She wanted just one more piece of Rachel, as greedy as she was. She wanted sweetness and lightness and for Rachel to have this last good memory.

"I adore you," She said into her mouth, as they rolled over until Rachel was on top.

"I love you," She said into her mouth, when they were naked, and held one another tightly. Rachel couldn't hear her but the words were out, were said, existed. They were true, of course. Quinn wasn't sure if she could love well, if ever she could love someone in a healthy manner, if she could love at all, really, but the feelings evoked by Rachel hurt her and marked her and left flowers in their wake, so surely that was love, or something like it.

She loved being under Rachel like this. Her unflagging, steady hips, the greedy mouth and bright eyes – such brave eyes – her kissed and well-bitten lips, her smooth shoulders and pretty biceps were all on display, were all Quinn's to hold and embrace and to never, ever forget.

Rachel always made her orgasm and it happened again, as she bit her shoulder to keep her squeaks silent, tasting vanilla and sour apples on her skin. Rachel bit her back and she wondered what she tasted like, in the vastness of her orgasm, but then Rachel was slowing, stopping, and kissing her bruise before they curled together.

It was a warm, summer day and sunlight was coming in, turning Rachel into a statue. "I love you," She said again, to the still creature. The brunette rolled onto her back, a brown nipple appearing on her golden torso. She kissed Rachel's forehead, softly, and pulled her note from her bag. She'd slipped it in with her Siken book, the one from so long ago, and now, their first real humane connection would be her last, on the back of Schadenfreude.

She took her son, sleepy and grasping her with his tiny little fists, and then their bags, to the car awaiting for them.

His pretty green eyes blinked open and he babbled to her.

"It's you and me now, AJ," She said, and if she cried, neither of her grandparents said anything about it at all.

Dear Rachel,

I'm sorry I left you like this. I'm sorry I let you get attached and fall in love and then left you. I'm writing this as I leave, AJ asleep next to me. When he wakes up, he's going to cry for you, like he always has before. He's so much your son already, even if you say he looks mostly like me.

One day he's going to ask about you and I won't know what to say.

"Your father was a beautiful girl with truthful eyes. Your father smiled and the entire room turned into starlight. Your father made love to me like it would save me. Nothing could save me but myself."

I think that if I'd have stayed, I'd have made you miserable. You would never have said anything but I would see it and my self-loathing would grow each moment, seeing those far off lights in your eyes. You were made for the stage, you know. You are bigger than anything life could have afforded you. Your voice made me fall in love with you when we were nine years old.

"Your father made angels jealous, her voice was so wonderful."

I feel guilty for taking him but guilt has consumed me so much for so long that it has become second nature. I decided to leave you on your birthday, when I saw what you were like with other people. How much brighter, how less burdened. You never had friends and it was my fault. I stole your first kiss and then I was selfish enough to love you. I think that's what this is, at the least. I hunger for you, I want you, I hurt you, I-I-I. You once told me to be selfish – not with your words but with your eyes, your face, your soft hands. I have become selfish but can't stop myself now. I am selfish to take this part of you and me, and I am selfish to take myself from you, and I am selfish to have fucked you last night until every part of you was soft and putty in my hands. I was selfish to let you get up this morning and cuddle Asher and sing to him so softly that he put his head down on your shoulder and yawn and show his toothless gums like he was smiling at you. That will be your last memory of him and he may never see you again.

"Your father loved you so much that he named you after a boy who followed his dreams and his talent, rather than what his parents wanted."

You read 'My Name Is Asher Lev' to him after I read 'East of Eden' and I think he loves you more for it, even if he doesn't know it yet. It was a better book. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say except that I'm sorry and I love you and I'm sorry that I loved you and bullied myself inside of you and then pulled away when you thought maybe, just maybe, you could wrap your arms around me and I'd be okay, one day, somehow. I don't know if I will ever be okay or if one day I will see you and everything will come rushing back. I hope it doesn't.

There I am, being selfish again.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being useless and wrecked and sorry. I am turning into my father and I won't allow you to turn into my mother, even if it is all in my head.

You taught me about cinematic masterpieces and what would make a classic a classic, how it was possible to feel everything and nothing at once. You have become my classic; bubbling laugh, derisive snort, hands on guitar strings.

I think this is overly dramatic. I'm messing up, trying to put things in their proper places, in places where nothing exists.

Just know this – I love you and I did this for you.

Quinn


	17. Epilogue - THE END

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric

Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.

Notes: Aaand, this is the last part of Catalyst. I've been writing this story for the better part of three years and it's been pretty wild. Thanks so much for reading. Also: For those of us without perfect recall, Quinn has not, technically, kidnapped Asher. She was completely out of line and a jerk, but not a criminal. During chapter seven, when they first look at baby names, Rachel says she is assigned female at birth, and because of that, there is no second parent on his birth certificate. His legal name is Asher Josiah Fabray, Rachel has no legal standing because of the gender binary bias that the American justice system has in place.

Epilogue –

The boy was thirteen before he met his father. He had never been concerned with having a second parent, and simply knew that he had one, somewhere, in the vastness of the world. He knew his mom had been a teenager and had simply assumed that his biological father was also a teenager, possibly even an older man who might have gotten in trouble if anyone had known. When the boy was a small child, he'd had fantasies. A man would show up, always tall and broad, with dark, curly hair like him, and his Mama's face would light up and he'd run to him. That obviously would never have happened, and he never mentioned his fantasies to his Mama.

He was a couple of months past thirteen when his androgynous rock star idol Rachel Berry got into a car accident while driving through Ohio with her ex-fiancée, model Amber Law. They'd announced the end of their engagement through their separate tumblr pages – he only followed Rachel's because it was more his style, full of text posts of things she'd noticed and pictures of things she'd eaten or saw, sometimes songs she'd covered, not promotional like Amber's which was always plugging this or that – and were driving to Rachel's house to gather Amber's things when a speeding eighteen wheeler nearly crushed the small hybrid. Rachel took the brunt of the impact and was airlifted to the best state hospital in closest distance. Amber only had a few broken bones and was sent to the local hospital.

He was watching the accident on the living room TV, which had the best sound and screen, when Mama walked in, laden with grocery bags. He paused it to get up, grab the heaviest from her, and put them in the kitchen. He kissed her hello, a little upset that he still had to get on his tip toes to kiss her cheek, and went to the car to grab the rest of the groceries. They normally went shopping together but he'd had summer baseball practice and she'd told him to go straight home afterwards. He was putting everything up when his Mama came into the kitchen, pale faced, eyes dewy, "Sweetie, what's that on the TV?"

He licked his lips, "Just the news, Mama. The – the band I like? Faction Phenomenon? Their lead singer got into an accident."

"And you wanted to watch it?" She asked, brow furrowed, mouth tight.

His shoulders hunched a little, and he mumbled, "I wanted to see if she was okay."

The severe look on her face lightened and she kissed the back of his head, "Mama's sorry, it's just that I don't like you looking at gory things."

The boy could admit to being glad that she didn't. He'd gone to Slade's house for a sleepover, and they'd watched a scary movie that was more gore than psychological and he'd nearly thrown up. Slade had felt bad afterwards, had rubbed his back as he fell asleep in apology.

"I know, Mama," He replied, and allowed himself to be cuddled a little before finishing with the groceries. He returned to the living room and pressed play on the remote to finish watching the scene, sitting on the couch. Mama was passing by on her way to her study and stood still to watch it.

The camera was on the helicopter lifting the lead singer away, and the reporter's voiceover, "EGOT winner and lead singer of multiplatinum band 'Faction Phenomenon' Rachel Berry was also in the accident, and sustained severe injuries. Paramedics that arrived at the scene said that no major organs were hit and that with proper physical therapy, she should make a full recovery."

He sighed in relief, even as his Mama made a sort of choked sound.

"Berry is well known for her veganism and activism, particularly when it comes to lgbtq youth and is the first out intersexual celebrity. Her interview with Diane Sawyer is scheduled to come on tonight at 9:00 pm, eastern standard time, 6:00pm pacific."

His Mama took a deep, shuddering breath, and said, "Asher, darling, do Mama a favor."

He looked up, "Yes?"

"Pack a bag."

The boy packed a bag and texted Slade that he was going on a trip with his mother. He waited a minute, and Slade texted him back that he would miss him. The boy smiled and ducked his head, although no one could see, and said that he would miss him too. He and Slade had been together for a long time, best friends since day care. Slade's parents hadn't cared that his mom was a displaced, single teenager; they were nearly his mom's mentors. They'd even introduced her to her current fiancé, Paul.

He put ten pairs of underwear and socks in an old book bag, some t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and an extra pair of sneakers. He put his school tablet in its case, then in the bag so he could keep up with school. He took his bag downstairs and found Mama was already finished, her work bag next to her full pack. She was in the kitchen, packing the food she'd just bought, making sandwiches with the food that would go bad, and putting the meat in their deep freezer.

"Where are we going?" He asked, in his normal, somewhat formal language. His Uncle Kurt told him once that his style of speaking reminded him of his father, as a small child, and he'd been proud of that fact, as well as somewhat resentful. How dare this figure intrude on his everyday life in such an innocuous manner?

Mama was putting everything into a cooler, "We're going to pick up Paul and then see your Grammy and Grump-Grump in Lima."

The boy smiled. His Grammy and Grump-Grump were his favorite relatives, and they always spoiled him when they saw him. Grump-Grump liked to take him fishing and they went to boxing matches and he was the one who had gotten him into baseball. Grammy made his favorite meals and let him braid her long hair at times, when Grump-Grump wasn't around, then would take him for walks. His great-grandparents had raised him briefly while his Mama was at school, with a full scholarship, but they were very severe and old-fashioned. When his Mama had come back for Thanksgiving and seen the welts on his backside, that'd been it for that arrangement. They'd moved into a small apartment and some of his earliest memories were of sleeping in the same bed as her, her larger body covering him, keeping him warm.

They put the cooler in the trunk, amassed a mound of blankets for him to nest with, and put their bags in the trunk. They drove to Paul's house, but he wasn't ready. Paul was a tall man, at least six feet, and broad. He worked out regularly. His brown hair was always clipped neatly, he was clean shaven, and his eyes were very dark, like his skin. No one would ever mistake the boy for Paul's son, and he was fine with that. He looked a little like his Mama, with her full mouth and cheekbones. The rest of him was from his biological father, which he found himself sometimes resentful, sometimes grateful. Looking just like his mother would have been a curse, but made things so much easier. He was darker than her as well, with an olive complexion, and curly black hair. Paul was making himself dinner, asparagus with chicken, and a baked potato, when his mom called, and they still weren't ready. The boy sat on the couch and watched the evening news.

Then, 7:00pm hit, and the news was again flooded with the images of his idol. His Mama was in the kitchen with Paul, but turned to see and her face went slack, then blank. He kept watching.

The Prius was mangled beyond repair, and he could see the first responders struggling to open up the car. There was no sound, but he could see them pull Amber out first through the broken window, and she was put into the back of an ambulance. They went back to work and the car had to be sawed in half in order for them to finally get Rachel out. His hand was suddenly in a tight grip and he saw his Mama staring at the screen as it transitioned to the inside of a studio.

Rachel was in front of them, whole and smiling, and for a moment, he was struck by the familiarity of her features. Her eyes were amber in the studio lights. The camera panned back some to show both Rachel and Diane.

"Hello," Diane said, "And welcome to 20/20. I'm Diane Sawyer and this is Rachel Berry. Some of you may have heard of her, the woman called 'the darling of rock', the 'messiah of music', and, more affectionately, 'the androgynous hot mess.'"

Rachel laughed, and rubbed the back of her head in a bashful moment. "Please, Diane, go on."

Diane chuckled as well.

"Tell us, Rachel, what was it like growing up? You're the only child of an interracial, gay couple. You're physically intersexual, you've been bullied, you're from a small town. What was that like?"

Rachel licked her bottom lip, brow furrowed. She spoke slowly, "It was initially, very lonely. We moved from another small town, in Wyoming - Eden, Wyoming, to be exact - and Lima's also small. Kids were already used to each other, so I got picked on a lot for being a relative stranger, and it was just compounded by my fathers. I was a happy child, though. I did swimming during the summer, piano, and singing lessons. I'd make a few friends, they'd leave when the bullying became too much."

She shrugged, "My house was vandalized quite a bit. I had two pets, a cat and a dog. The dog was significantly later on in life after my cat was killed." Her smile was brittle, like glass fragments, "She was burned alive."

The interview was, in reality, one tragedy after another. Her normally bright features became morose the longer she went on and Diane remained shocked, one hand over her mouth.

And, finally, it came to high school. Rachel's eyes were softened and tender, as she finally said, "I feel in love."

His mother's hand tightened to the point of pain. Her eyes were closed; black lashes flush to the wells of her eyes, like she was praying. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, in her own soft way. He had always thought his mother was the most beautiful mother of all mothers, the way he was sure other children felt, but this was different.

There was something between them, a rawness of their shared experience, that illuminated them both, separated by time and distance.

The pieces fell into place, all at once, when Rachel said, "Of course, she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever known, but she was so much more." Her face took on a faraway sheen, as if nostalgia would seep from her pores, "I loved her very much but I guess it was too much. If I'm being honest," And here, her smile was teary, "I still love her."

Diane cradled her chin with her hand, "What happened to her? Your beautiful girl?"

Rachel blinked her tears away like dew. "She left, one day. She left and she took my heart with her." Her lips twitched, "She is, without a doubt, the biggest change in my life, in what it could have been. If I'd have felt whole, if I'd have felt worthy after that, we will never know. She was more than human, less than it at the same time."

"She created a chain reaction," Diane broke in.

Rachel bit her lip, then shook her head, "No, not quite. She – pardon me, I'm a bit of a science geek. There's a physical reaction, which is one thing changes but at its core, all of its characteristics are the same. Then, there's the chemical reaction, which is when things change at their very atomic place. She is, without a doubt, my catalyst."

"For what?"

Rachel blinked, as if the question had never occurred to her, "For everything."

Mama sobbed, suddenly, harsh and broken.

"Asher," She screamed, "Get your things. Please, please, just – Paul, we're leaving!"

Her voice became hysteric, high and pitchy.

"I have to," She was sobbing. "I have to get to my Rachel."

"Mama," Asher found himself saying, seeing everything at once. "Mama. Is that – Is that-"

Mama threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead, "Later, okay, baby? Later."

He nodded. "Later."

Later was sitting by his second mother's side, covered in tubes and machines pumping her body. His mother gave up all pretense of concern and propriety by climbing in bed with her, cradling her head to her chest.

"I love you," His mother was whispering to the fragile being. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much."

Days later, when she murmured her mantra, fingers would twitch.

After that, long eyelashes would part to show eyes he'd always thought too pretty to belong on a human being.

His mother was watching, as he was, and he was the first thing they saw. They blinked twice, and she made a rattling noise. Later, he would realize she was crying and it hurt too much for her to truly cry.

"There they are," Said his Mama, softly, touching her face. "There are my brave eyes."

The End


End file.
